Hold On
by bayoublackjack
Summary: What if Dean didn't give up hunting after Sam was trapped in Lucifer's cage & during his quest to save Sam he met Dr. Martha Jones. Set after Swan Song and contains spoilers for seasons 6 & 7. Sequel of sorts to my story Chasing Pavements. Not necessary to read CP but the epilogue is a lead-in. Named for the Kansas song. Please Read & Review!
1. Chapter 1

Dean sat in a diner outside of Chicago eating pie. He had stopped for a bite to eat on his way from Cicero to Sioux Falls. He and Lisa had given it a couple of months before officially calling it quits. As much as he wanted to be a family man for her and Ben, hunting was in his blood and his mind was set on finding a way to save Sam from Lucifer's cage.

The door to the diner opened and a young black woman walked in. The waitress behind the counter knew her by name, so Dean assumed she was a regular. She was cute. British from the sound of her accent and she had a great ass.

It felt good to be able to check out anyone he wanted again.

He cared about Lisa, but he wasn't sure that he was meant to be tied down to one woman. That was more of Sam's thing. Sam could do the domestic life. A wife, two kids and a dog complete with the white picket fence. He fit that lifestyle to a tee. Dean was more beers, burgers and babes. That was his area. And he had a feeling that the hot little thing that just strolled into the diner was just what he needed to get him back into the swing of things.

Dean was torn away from his thoughts by the sound of his cell phone. He glanced at the number and answered. "What's up, Bobby?" he asked. "Yea, I'm still in Illinois. Stopped in Maywood for a bite to eat. What?" He frowned as he listened. "Are you sure? Yea. I'm on it. Thanks, Bobby."

Dean quickly finished up his pie and coffee. Bobby had given him a tip about a case in the area. The hospital's blood bank was having trouble keeping up with blood demands and that coupled with a rash of disappearance spelled vampires.

If there was a nest in town, it probably was near the hospital. Or at the very least, they were connected to the hospital in some way. So that was where he was going to start looking.

The only regret he had was that he wouldn't get the opportunity to get better acquainted with the hot chick in the diner. 'Oh well,' he thought as he gave her one last glance. There'd be other women in other diners.

Right now, he had work to do.

* * *

Martha was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she wasn't paying attention to the clock. She was going to be late for work. She had Linda pack up the rest of her food so she could take it to work with her. She'd just have to finish it during her break, if she even got one. The hospital had been so chaotic the past few days.

She had only been working at the Loyola's emergency facility for a little over a month since moving to Illinois from London. It was a big transition. The cultural differences alone were enough of a struggle, but she also was trying to get back into the habit of being in a hospital again.

Martha had taken a sabbatical from the Royal Hope Hospital to pursue other interests and she considered returning, up until the failure of her marriage. After her divorce, she decided what she needed was something new. A new life, a new job and definitely new surroundings.

* * *

"How's it looking tonight, Shane?" Martha asked as she pulled on her lab coat. She was in the on call room with two of her colleagues, Dr. Shane Garrett and Nurse Britney Weldon.

"Busy," the young doctor replied. "There was an accident on the Ike. We got slammed."

"Are we still having blood shortages?" Martha asked.

Shane nodded. "Someone down there in the blood bank clearly doesn't know what they're doing." He folded his arms across his chest. "Their inventory isn't matching up with their supplies."

"I'm sure it's just a clerical error." Britney shrugged.

"Or maybe it's a cover up," Shane joked.

"I bet you're right," Martha agreed with a smirk. "Probably plasmavores."

Britney wrinkled her nose. "What's a plasmavore?"

"They're sorta like vampires, but a bit weirder," Martha explained.

"Weirder than the ones that sparkle?" Shane quipped.

Martha laughed. "_Nothing_ is weirder than that."

* * *

Dean stole a pair of scrubs and an ID badge from one of the lockers. He'd pretend to be an orderly long enough to gather some information.

He just wished that Sam was there. These things always worked better with back up. Plus, Sam was much better with all the medical mumbo jumbo than him.

He shifted those thoughts aside as he found a supply closet. Checking to see if the coast was clear, he pocketed a few syringes. If he was dealing with vampires, he was going to need dead man's blood and there was only one place in the hospital that he was guaranteed to find that.

* * *

"Where's Britney?" Martha asked Shane as he tended to a patient.

"I haven't seen her in a while. I think she said something about going up to the eighth floor to check on a patient." Shane slipped his stethoscope around his neck. "Why?"

"I think she accidentally switched the charts for Mr. Meriwether and Mr. Thurgood."

"They already wheeled Mr. Meriwether down to the morgue," Shane informed her.

Martha groaned softly. "I guess I'll have to go to the morgue and switch the charts myself."

"Beware the plasmavores," Shane teased.

Martha rolled her eyes playfully as she headed for the lift. "Plasmavores aren't dead, but they do have salt deficiencies," she commented. "Kinda like Mrs. Kramer over there." Shane eyed the elderly woman suspiciously causing Martha to laugh. "Mind her teeth."

* * *

The morgue was quiet when Dean got there. The fact that no one was around to question his intentions made his job easier. He found an elderly man on one of the tables and began filling his syringes with the man's blood. It wasn't until he was filling the fourth and final syringe that he heard the door to the morgue open.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" a female voice came from behind him.

Dean quickly stuffed the syringes in his pocket before turning around. "I was just gathering blood samples for…umm…hematology."

Martha crossed her arms over her chest. "Since when does hematology send orderlies to collect blood from corpses?"

"Budget cuts." Dean flashed her his best smile. "We all have to do our parts."

"Only you're not really an orderly, are you?" Martha asked as she walked towards him.

"What?"

"I saw you in the diner before my shift."

Dean scoffed even though he knew he recognized her as well. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I've never seen you here before."

"It's a big hospital," Dean retorted.

Martha pointed to his badge. "So your name is Anwar Patel?"

Dean glanced at his ID and smiled. "I was adopted."

"You're a terrible liar."

"If I told you that you were incredibly hot would you believe me then?"

Martha scoffed softly. "Well you were checking out my arse in the diner."

"Then you know I'm telling the truth."

"So you admit you were there," Martha smirked. Dean's smile faltered, giving her the confirmation she needed. "You're rubbish at this."

Dean shrugged. "I usually have help."

"Seems like you need it."

"Are you offering?"

Martha shook her head. "Not without a proper explanation of why you're stealing blood from a dead man."

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

"Try me," Martha challenged.

Dean exhaled. "I'm hunting vampires."

"Is that all?" Martha asked nonchalantly.

"Is that all?" Dean repeated incredulously. "Lady, I just told that I was taking the blood from a dead man to hunt vampires."

Martha nodded. "I heard you."

"Aren't you going say something or try to stop me?"

"Most people in my position would probably recommend a psychiatric consultation, but I'm not most people and I have a feeling that you aren't either."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean stared at Martha. "I'm not sure if I should be thankful or suspicious."

"A bit of both might be your best option," Martha responded casually.

"Right…" Dean covered the corpse of the old man whose blood he collected. "You don't seem to be freaked out by the idea of vampires."

"I've seen a lot of weird things in my life." Martha shrugged.

"Like vampires in a hospital?"

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you," Martha replied, borrowing his earlier line.

"Try me."

"Vampire like humanoid aliens called plasmavores."

"Aliens?" Dean shook his head with a laugh. "Why are the cute ones always bat shit crazy?"

"I could say the same about you," Martha countered. "You're the one nicking blood off a dead man."

Dean smirked. "So you think I'm cute?"

Martha rolled her eyes playfully. "Don't be cheeky."

"Lady, I can be anything you want me to be," Dean retorted as he took a step closer.

"Doctor," Martha corrected him. "Dr. Martha Jones."

"Dean."

The door to the morgue swung open again. "Martha?" Britney stepped inside. "What are you doing down here?"

Martha turned to face Britney. "You switched Mr. Meriwether's chart with Mr. Thurgood's," she informed her.

"I did?"

"Yea." Martha frowned. "But if you didn't know about the switch, then why did you come down to the morgue?"

Britney exhaled sharply. "So smart, but so dumb." She opened her mouth wide revealing large sharp teeth.

Martha took a step backwards. "That's new."

"Move!" Dean yelled as he pushed past Martha with a syringe in hand. He lunged for Britney and was met with a swift kick to the face. Dean hit the ground hard and the syringe in his hand rolled towards Martha.

Martha instinctively grabbed the syringe and charged Britney. The two women wrestled between the tables before Britney slammed Martha into the wall of freezers.

"Don't let her get her blood on you," Dean warned.

Britney made to bite Martha on the neck, but Martha caught her with an elbow to nose. With Britney stunned, Martha took the opportunity to plunge the syringe in her neck.

"Dammit," Britney cursed softly as she dropped to the ground.

Martha dropped the empty syringe and stared at Britney's body. "Is she dead?" She panted softly.

"No," Dean groaned as he pulled himself up. "Just paralyzed. Temporarily. So we need to work fast."

* * *

Martha leaned against the hood of Dean's car with blood on her hands. She trembled slightly as she attempted to rub the stains away on a rag Dean had given her. It was nearly dawn and they were in a wooded area north of Chicago. She believed Dean had called the town Glencoe. She looked up as Dean loaded the last of the headless corpses onto the fire. Dean had interrogated Britney until she revealed the location of the rest of her nest.

"You alright?" Dean asked gently as he walked towards her.

Martha exhaled slowly. "I will be."

He stood next to her. "You fight like a freaking warrior," he marveled with a chuckle.

"Not like a warrior." Martha shook her head. "A solider."

Dean looked down at her hands. They were shaking. "Soldiers usually have steadier hands." Martha balled her hands into fists at his words. "First kill?" he asked.

"No," she replied softly. "But it never feels right." She looked up at him. "I'm a doctor. I'm supposed to be saving lives not taking them."

"You saved my life back there," Dean reminded her.

Martha shrugged. "I just followed my instincts."

"Well you have damn good instincts."

"I tried this life once." Martha shook her head. "It didn't work."

Dean watched her silently for a moment before standing up straight. "C'mon. Let me take you home," he insisted. Martha obeyed silently and climbed into the passenger's seat.

The drive back took nearly an hour and they rode in silence, save for the music on the radio. Martha stared out the window, taking in the sights, as they drove. It was funny. She had seen more of Chicagoland in one night with Dean than she had in five and a half weeks she had lived there.

Martha looked at Dean as they pulled off the Eisenhower. "How did you end up here?" she asked suddenly. "What made you decide you wanted to fight demons for a living?"

"It's the family business." Dean glanced at Martha. "My grandparents were hunters. My parents did it. So, my brother and I just fell into it too."

"Did you ever think about doing anything else?"

"Not really." Dean stared at the road ahead of him. "Sam did for a while though. He went and got himself into a fancy law school and everything."

"What happened?"

Dean exhaled sharply. "I dragged him back into it. Back into this life."

Martha looked out the window again. "Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?"

Dean arched his brow. "Are you asking me to sleep over?"

"Not like that." Martha looked at him again. "I just noticed the bags in the back seat."

Dean nodded. "I don't usually say in one place for too long."

"My flat is small, but the sofa folds out into a bed and it's cheaper than a hotel."

Dean looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "You just met me. I could be a killer."

"You _are_ a killer," she pointed out. "But I guess so am I." She shrugged slightly. "At any rate, I'm not scared of you."

Dean focused on the road. "Just for tonight."

* * *

Dean stretched his limbs as he got up from the sofa bed. According to the clock on the wall it was a quarter after noon. He and Martha got in just before dawn. Martha had offered to whip him up something to eat, but Dean just opted for a quick a shower before hitting the hay. Now he was wishing that he had taken her up on her offer.

The apartment was dead quiet, so Martha was either still asleep or out. Either way, Dean assumed it was safe enough for him to walk around in his boxers. He crept to the kitchen quietly and checked the refrigerator. There wasn't much inside and Dean wondered what she had proposed to cook for him with so little to work with.

Dean heard a door open behind him and turned to see Martha walking in the front door with two bags of food. "You were still sleep when I left so I just asked Linda to give you my usual," she informed him as she placed the food on the kitchen table.

Dean hurried over to the couch and grabbed his clothes.

"I got you a bacon cheeseburger with fries. Hope that's alright," Martha told as she unloaded the bags. "Oh and I got pie. You like pie, right?"

Dean froze as he zipped up his jeans. He turned to Martha slowly. "I think I love you."

Martha laughed softly. "Is that all it takes to win your affection?"

Dean pulled his t-shirt on as he rejoined her in the kitchen. "I'm a simple man with simple tastes."

"Oscar Wilde with a dash of Lynyrd Skynyrd," Martha joked as she sat down. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yea," Dean nodded as he began to eat. "Thanks."

Martha picked up a French fry but didn't eat it. "So where are you going from here?" she asked as she twirled the fry between her fingers.

"Sioux Falls," Dean responded around a full mouth of food.

"That's in South Dakota, yea?"

Dean nodded again. "I have a friend there. Bobby. He's a hunter like me."

"Mt. Rushmore is in South Dakota," Martha thought aloud. "I always thought it'd be nice to see it. See _all_ the sights really. America's so big after all." She smiled to herself. "I lived in New York for a bit when I worked with UNIT. Never saw much of anything," she frowned. "I've always regretted that."

Dean gulped down the huge bite of burger in his mouth. "Is this going somewhere?"

Martha dropped her fry back onto the pile in front of her. "I thought about what you said last night, about me saving your life. And I realized that there's more than one way to save lives. I knew that, but you reminded me." She paused. "And you also reminded me of this bloke I knew. He had just lost someone important to him when we met and he wasn't any good on his own either."

Dean exhaled.

"I've already made up my mind," Martha told him. "I quit my job this morning."

"Wait." Dean blinked. "You _quit_ your job?"

"It wouldn't be the first time, but thankfully there's an entire ocean between my mum and me this time," Martha joked.

Dean shook his head. "This is life isn't glamorous, Martha. It's hard. _Real_ hard. It's not something you just do on a whim. I've seen a lot of good people die."

"So have I," Martha countered.

Dean wiped his mouth on a paper napkin and balled it up. "Martha," he began firmly.

"Wait." Martha held her hand up. "Before you say anything else, there's something I need to tell you. Something about my life." She sighed softly. "Something I think will change everything."


	3. Chapter 3

"So let me get this straight." Dean paced back and forth in Martha's living room. "You're telling me that you traveled through _time_ with an alien in a phone booth." He folded his arms across his chest. "Was his name Rufus?"

Martha pursed her lips. "First of all, Rufus wasn't an alien he was just from Bill and Ted's future. Secondly, don't be a smart arse."

"You _do_ realize how crazy all of that sounds, right?"

"Yea, but it doesn't make it any less true," Martha insisted. "I mean I went to the moon and met William bloody Shakespeare."

Dean paused his pacing. "You met Shakespeare on the moon?"

"No." Martha shook her head. "It was two separate occasions."

Dean took a seat next to her on the couch. "I'm sorry, but this is a little too hard to swallow."

"This from the bloke that hunts demons for a living," Martha scoffed.

"You've _seen_ vampires," he reminded her. "You know they're real."

"What? Do you want me to just ring the Doctor up and have him drop in for tea and a chat?"

Dean arched his brow. "Would that work? I mean would this Doctor guy show up if you called him."

Martha scoffed again. "You are _not_ serious."

Dean shrugged. "Hey, I'm not the one claiming to know aliens."

Martha grumbled something under her breath as she retrieved her mobile from her pocket. "You're lucky he likes to show off." She dialed the number to the super phone she had given the Doctor and hoped that he'd answer. "Doctor…" she responded when she heard the voice on the other end of the phone. "I need to see you."

* * *

Dean stared open mouthed at the blue box that stood in the middle of Martha's living room. "There's a freaking phone booth in the middle of your apartment."

"Police box," Martha corrected. "Well, a spaceship disguised as police box."

The door to the TARDIS swung open and the Doctor stepped out with a huge grin, tweaking his bowtie.

"I gotta admit," Dean glanced at Martha. "I was kinda expecting George Carlin."

"Martha Jones!" The Doctor greeted her happily, kissing her on both cheeks. "And Dean Winchester!" He treated him to the same greeting, stunning Dean into silence. "It's been awhile. How's everyone? Bobby and—" The Doctor paused. He held Dean by the shoulders and searched his face for answers. "Why are you looking at me like that? Like we've never met before?"

"Because you haven't," Martha answered for him. "At least not from Dean's prospective."

"Right!" The Doctor pulled away from Dean quickly. "Timey wimey."

"I've just been kissed by an alien," Dean responded stoically. "And not the hot Natasha Henstridge kind of alien."

"That film is complete and utter rubbish! You humans are so obsessed with mating." The Doctor grimaced. "Why would anyone cross the cosmos just to breed with hairless apes?" He waved off the notion. "Most species don't even bother with sexual reproduction anymore."

"I hope I'm dead before we get to that point on this planet," Dean muttered under his breath.

"I rang…" Martha changed the subjected. "Because I wanted to prove to Dean that aliens are real," she informed the Doctor.

"Of course they're real!" The Doctor scowled. "Where do you think half those so called _demons_ you hunt come from?" he questioned Dean. "You live on one tiny little rock in the farthest corner of a vast universe. Don't be so arrogant as to presume that nothing else exists beyond your moon and stars."

Dean held up his hands in defeat. "My bad."

The Doctor tweaked his tie. "It most certainly is your bad."

"Can we show him?" Martha asked the Doctor eagerly. She nodded her head towards the TARDIS.

"The old girl _does_ love attention." The Doctor smiled as he stroked the side of the TARDIS. "In you go."

"C'mon." Martha beamed as she grabbed Dean by the hand and pulled him inside.

Dean glanced down at their hands. He wasn't much of a hand holder, but he surprisingly he didn't mind the way Martha's hand fit into his. He looked up from their hands and stopped on the spot. "Holy sh—"

"Language!" The Doctor cast Dean a disapproving glance as he strolled past him towards the console.

Dean turned slowly as he took in the blue box's interior. "It's bigger on the inside."

"She's called the TARDIS," the Doctor smiled proudly. "Time and Relative Dimension in Space."

"Don't get him started," Martha warned Dean. "He'll talk your ear off about her."

"Hey," Dean looked at Martha seriously. "Don't disrespect the relationship between a man and his transport."

"Yea!" The Doctor nodded in agreement.

Martha rolled her eyes. "Boys and their toys."

* * *

Martha stood in her bedroom stuffing a large duffle bag with all of her essentials. If she was going to go with Dean she needed to pack light, but she also wanted to be prepared for anything. Dean told her that he never stayed in one place for too long so she wasn't sure when she'd get a chance to return to her flat. She had prepaid her landlord rent for the next few months and gave Linda from the diner her spare keys to check up on the place and water her plants.

The only thing Martha had left to do was ring her family, but she decided she could do that from the road. She didn't want to take the chance that her mum would try to talk her out of going with Dean like she tried to do when Mickey convinced her to go freelance.

Martha slung her bag over her shoulder and cast one last glance at her flat. She exhaled softly and locked the door behind her. She found Dean and the Doctor chatting animatedly in the car park. The Doctor had moved to TARDIS outside next to the Impala.

"I had a canary yellow Edwardian Roadster once upon a time," the Doctor told Dean. "Bessie." He smiled longingly. "I loved that car."

"You boys done with your little chat?" Martha asked with a smile as Dean took her bag from her and loaded it into the car.

"We can continue it another time," the Doctor insisted as he looked at Martha. "Off to save the world again?"

"I learned for the best," Martha replied.

"You never needed my help with that," the Doctor insisted. "You always knew what needed to be done. Even before me sometimes. That quality will help you in the future." He glanced at Dean and leaned in close to Martha. "Something is coming, Martha," he whispered quickly. "Or rather _someone_." He hesitated. "I can't say more, but Dean is going to need you. More than he might realize," he informed her. "Don't let him push you away."

Martha pulled away from him slowly. "Doctor, you're scaring me."

"Fear is good," the Doctor told her. "It keeps you vigilant. It keeps your safe." He stepped away from Martha and put on a huge smile. "Well then." He clapped his hands together. "Happy hunting. I have dinner plans with Julia Child and I promised to bring the wine," the Doctor said as he made his way back to the TARDIS. "I think I'll swing by 1945. Good wine year, 1945. Baron Philippe de Rothschild owes me a favor."

"He's a strange little man," Dean commented with a smile as the TARDIS dematerialized.

"Definitely." Martha laughed.

Dean slipped behind the wheel of the Impala and started her up. "Ready to hit the road?"

Martha nodded as she climbed into the passenger's seat. "Ready as I'll ever be."


	4. Chapter 4

Martha stared at the sixteen year old girl that stood in front of them in the abandoned warehouse. Regan paced back and forth over the devil's trap Dean had drawn on the ground. She watched them with eyes blacker than night and Martha knew that if the girl had the chance she wouldn't hesitate to kill both her and Dean.

"How's you Latin?" Dean asked Martha breathlessly.

"I'm a doctor," Martha reminded him with a pant.

"Good." Dean shoved a heavy tome into Martha's hands. "Read," he commanded.

Martha looked down at the ancient book and began to recite the incantation. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica..."

Regan shrieked wildly and threw her head backwards as a cloud of black smoke erupted from her mouth, swirling upward and out of the hole in the ceiling. She dropped to the ground in a limp pile. Martha instinctively rushed to her side and began checking her vitals.

"Is she still alive?" Dean asked warily from outside the devil's trap.

Martha nodded. "Her pulse is a bit weak, but I think she'll pull through. We should get her to a hospital though."

Dean lifted the girl into his arms and carried her to the Impala. Martha followed closely behind him. After Regan was safely admitted into the closest hospital, which in this case was a small one in Vinita, Oklahoma, Martha rejoined Dean in the Impala.

Martha had been traveling with Dean for a little over three months, but she still hadn't gotten used to the sight of a demon being expelled from someone's body. She was just happy that they managed to save the girl this time.

The two of them rode without talking. A Foreigner song played in the background as Dean drove them back to the motel.

Martha pulled off her leather jacket once they were back in the motel room and observed Dean closely. Regan had given him quite the beating and Martha suspected that he was worse off than he was willing to admit. "How's your shoulder?"

"It's fine," Dean grumbled as he slowly removed his coat.

"I don't believe you." She approached him as he sat on the corner of the bed. She touched his shoulder and he winced. "Take your shirt off. Let me see."

Dean smirked naughtily. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Martha fought the urge to return his smirk and rolled her eyes instead. "Be quiet and let me do my job," she instructed as she helped him out of his shirt. Martha moved closer to him and inspected his shoulder closely. "It's dislocated," she informed him with a frown. "You should have let someone at the hospital check it."

"Isn't that the point of having you around, Doc?" Dean asked.

Martha exhaled sharply. "I need to pop it back into place."

Dean groaned softly. "Do your worst."

"Lie back," Martha requested as she eased him backwards onto the bed and straddled his lap. She placed one of her hands on his shoulder, holding it firmly in place while she grasped his arm with her free hand. "This is going to hurt a bit," she warned before popping his shoulder back into place.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean grunted as he closed his eyes.

Martha caressed his bare shoulder gently. "You alright?"

Dean opened his eyes and stared up at Martha. His eyes traveled over her body slowly. "I'm on a bed being straddled by a hot chick." He flashed her a smile. "I've certainly been worse." Martha rolled off him and Dean immediately missed the feeling of having her on top of him.

"We should stay put for a few days," Martha told him. "Give you time to regain your full strength."

"Doctor's orders," Dean replied softly as he closed his eyes again. He lay in silence for a while before opening his eyes again. When he opened his eyes, he saw Martha staring at his bare chest. "See something you like?" he asked playfully.

"I've been thinking." Martha looked him in the eyes. "There's something I want to do. Something I've wanted to do for a while now."

Dean smirked. "I'm game if you don't mind doing all the work."

Martha rolled her eyes. "Not _that_." She placed her hand on his chest and traced the outline of his tattoo with her fingers. "I think I should get one."

Dean momentarily closed his eyes at her touch. He had gone longer than he cared to admit without the touch of a woman. It was a problem that he hoped Martha would eventually help him remedy. "We'll go soon," he told her as he opened his eyes again.

Martha's eyes locked on Dean's and she felt something surge inside of her. "Thank you," she answered softly.

* * *

It had been far too long for Dean. That was a fact that was becoming painfully obvious with each passing day. He watched Martha as she talked to a middle aged tattooist that looked like he was member of the Hells Angels. She had discussed tattoo placement with Dean earlier, but he wasn't much help.

He was feeling conflicted about the matter. The tattoo would protect her from being possessed, that much was true, but he had spent several hours obsessing over the thought of her body being corrupted by the image. Sure she already had a butterfly tattooed on her arm, but he had this image of her smooth brown skin imprinted on his brain and the anti-possession tattoo would just ruin it.

On the other hand, he had spent an equal amount of time thinking about the perfect place for a tattoo to go. Her chest was a no because it would ruin the view. Her back could work just as long as it wasn't placed too low. Martha wasn't a tramp stamp kinda girl. The back of her neck was another option. It was simple and easy to hide. Or maybe she'd prefer somewhere well hidden, like her ass or her inner thigh. Some place she'd only share with a select few.

Dean exhaled sharply as he tried to push those thoughts out of his mind. Not that it mattered. It was already too late. The damage was done. He shifted in his seat to hide his arousal.

Martha climbed into the tattoo artist's chair and lifted her shirt slightly. Dean endured it without a problem, but when she unzipped her jeans and eased them down to expose the top of her left hip, he quietly excused himself to the bathroom.

Dean wasn't sure exactly how long he had been gone, but when he came back Martha's tattoo was done and she was admiring it in the mirror.

"You aren't the first," the tattoo artist gave Dean a knowing grin when he returned. "Seeing girls get inked gets me hot too." Dean walked away from him with a frown as he tried to drive that unsettling image out of his mind.

"What do you think?" Martha asked when she saw Dean's reflection behind her in the mirror.

Dean drew in a slow breath through his teeth as he eyed her tattoo up close. "Protection from possession never looked so hot," he confessed.

"I don't know." Martha shrugged as the tattoo artist came over and taped a bandage over her tattoo. "I have seen you shirtless," she teased. She zipped up her jeans once the bandage was in place and paid the tattooist for his work. "We have matching tattoos," she commented as they climbed into the Impala. "That's considered a form of commitment in some circles," she quipped.

"Does that mean I get to see you naked?" Dean asked with a smirk.

"You've seen me in a towel," Martha reminded him. After a few months of sharing motel rooms, they'd gotten to a point that they were comfortable enough to be around each other wearing next to nothing.

Dean scoffed. "That's _so_ not the same."

Martha laughed as she looked out the window. "No, but it's close."

"Not close enough."

"You disappeared when I was getting my tattoo," Martha commented suddenly as she turned her eyes to Dean. "Where did you go?" she asked with a tilt of her head.

Dean met her gaze. "Do you _really_ want to know?"

Martha laughed again. "Do you _really_ think I don't already know?"

"It's been awhile," Dean offered.

Martha scoffed playfully. "That's a bloody lie! I've heard you going at it in the middle of the night."

"No." Dean glanced at her. "I mean it's _been_ awhile." He returned his eyes to the road. "About four months."

"Eight."

Dean frowned. "How is that even humanly possible?"

"Nimble fingers?" Martha joked with a shrug.

Dean was having too much fun with that mental image. "I could lend you a hand."

Martha arched her brow. "_Just_ a hand?"

Dean exhaled. "Do I need to pull over?"

Martha shook her head. "I'm _not_ shagging you on the side of the road."

Dean grinned. "But you do _want_ to shag me."

Martha turned her head away from him and smiled. "Just shut up and drive."

Dean beamed as he cranked up the music and hit the accelerator.


	5. Chapter 5

It started with a kiss, gentle and inquisitive, as they closed the door to their motel room. Martha closed her eyes and gave into Dean. She moved backwards towards the bed as their kisses increased in both length and fervor, removing articles of clothing one by one along the way.

Martha was down to her underwear when she felt the mattress against her back. Dean hovered above her, shirtless and still wearing his jeans. She cupped his face and brought him down to her level. She felt the warmth of his breath as he kissed a trail from her earlobe downward.

Dean slowly made his way back up to Martha's lips and their eyes met when she reached down to unzip his jeans. He felt her fingers dip below the rim of his underwear and tug downward just as his cell phone began to ring.

"Son of a bitch," he groaned as he rolled off of Martha. A huge part of him wanted to ignore the call and keep going, but he knew only one person would be calling him that time of night. He closed his eyes and answered. "Bobby." He exhaled. "Still in Oklahoma." He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Yea." He stood up and began to get dressed. "If we leave now, we can get to you around noon."

Martha slid off the bed and began to get dressed as well. They gathered their things without saying much to one another. Dean only told her that Bobby needed help with a ghost problem up in South Dakota.

So much for a few days of rest.

* * *

Martha closed her eyes for a bit and when she opened them again it was daytime. She sat up in the passenger's seat and looked around. "Where are we?" she asked Dean as she stretched her limbs.

"Nebraska." Dean glanced at her. "Just north of Omaha."

"Have you slept at all?" Dean shook his head. "You should sleep," Martha suggested. "I can drive the rest of the way."

Dean frowned. "I don't think so."

"I won't get lost," Martha insisted. "I remember the way to Bobby's place." She paused. "Or do you just not trust me enough to drive your baby."

Dean stared ahead. "They drive on the wrong side of the road in your country."

Martha rolled her eyes. "I _have_ driven a car in America before."

"This isn't just _any_ car."

"Fine." Martha exhaled sharply. She folded her arms across her chest and stared out the window. "Are we going to talk about what happened?" she asked after a few moments of silence. "Or what _didn't_ happen."

"What's to talk about?" Dean asked without looking at her.

"We stopped right when we were about to…"

"Bobby needed me."

"Do you always put the needs of others before yourself?"

Dean glanced at her. "Maybe it was a bad idea."

"The sex or bringing me along?"

"Maybe both," Dean replied stoically.

"Damaged men with their hearts set on someone else." She let out a mirthless laugh. "I'm like a bloody magnet!"

Dean stared at her. "You think this is about Lisa?"

Martha scoffed. "No. It's about _Sam_."

"Sam?"

Martha softened her tone. "I'm not trying to replace him." She paused. "Not that I ever could."

Dean kept his eyes on the road.

"I know you haven't given up on finding a way to save him."

"I promised him that I'd give it up." Dean exhaled. "Thoughts of trying to save him. Hunting. This whole life." He looked at Martha. "I promised I'd have a normal life."

"So why don't you?"

"The same reason you left the hospital."

Martha nodded. Her experiences with the Doctor were different than Dean's life, but she could relate to his reasoning. "This life becomes a part of you."

"I couldn't give it up any more than I could give up my brother."

"So we'll find a way," Martha stated resolutely. She touched his knee gently. "We'll do whatever it takes to get Sam out of that hole."

* * *

Dean gave in and let Martha take over the driving. Honestly, he could use the rest and he did trust her with the Impala. He trusted her more than he admitted.

As soon as he closed his eyes, he saw her.

Thoughts of Martha filled his head. He wanted to touch her again. To feel her skin pressed up against his. He wanted to taste her lips and smell her shampoo. To hear the way she moaned when he touched her body.

He wanted Martha more than he had wanted anyone in a long time. Not just physically though. He wanted her mind, body and soul. He chastised himself because he knew he should have been thinking about Sam and the best way to get him out of the cage, but there was just something about Martha.

Dean wasn't one for self-deprivation, but he had pulled away from her because he thought it might be easier. The further they went, the harder it would be for him to be able to compartmentalize his feelings. If they took things to the next level, would he be able to handle having her hunt alongside him? He knew Martha could take care of herself, but if something happened to her he wasn't sure he could handle it. He had lost too many good people to this life and he didn't want Martha to be among the casualties.

But was that reason enough to not go for it?

The life of a hunter wasn't guaranteed. He could die at any moment. That was why he always lived every day like it was his last.

So why was it so hard to do the same when it came to Martha?

* * *

Martha got them to Sioux Falls safe and sound with the Impala completely intact. "I said you had nothing to worry about," she told Dean as they climbed out of the car.

"I trusted you."

Martha scoffed playfully as they headed inside of Bobby's house. "What was that about driving on the wrong side of the road then?" She smirked. "Were you taking the piss?"

Dean shook his head. "You Brits have some weird ass sayings."

"Well you yanks have a _butt load_ of them yourselves," Martha countered with a laugh.

The sound of her laughter made him smile. "Martha," he touched her arm. "Look…" He paused. "I didn't mean what I said before," he told her seriously. "It wasn't a bad idea. Any of it."

"Let's just get through this ghost thing, yea?" Martha touched his hand. "Then we'll talk."

"Just talk?" Dean smirked.

"For starters," Martha replied with a mischievous grin.

"Let's hurry up and gank this thing," Dean retorted as he entered Bobby's study.

Bobby looked up from a stack of books when Dean and Martha walked in. "Well you took your damn time, didn't ya?"

"We drove all the way from Oklahoma," Dean reminded him.

"Plus we had to make a quick stop," Martha added.

Bobby looked back and forth between the two of them. "Is that some sorta code?"

"If only," Dean quipped. "So what's the deal with this ghost?"

"About that…" Bobby stood up. "There is no ghost. I just needed to get you here," he confessed.

"What?" Dean frowned. "Bobby, what's going on?"

"He called you because I asked him to," a voice came from the kitchen.

Dean's eyes grew large. He turned and looked into the eyes that he feared he'd never see again. "Sam?"

Sam forced a smile. "Hey Dean."


	6. Chapter 6

Dean walked towards Sam slowly. "Is that really you, Sammy?" he asked, still taken aback by his brother's sudden appearance. "This isn't a dream, right?"

Sam shook his head. "It's real, Dean. _I'm_ real."

"I checked him with salt and holy water," Bobby informed Dean with a nodded. "Even cut him with silver. The whole nine yards."

"How?" Dean reached out and touched Sam to make sure that he wasn't dreaming. Once he realized that Sam was really real, Dean pulled him into a tight embrace. "How are you back?"

Sam hugged him back. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Dean demanded as he pulled away. "Was it God? Or maybe Cas?"

"I don't know. Cas hasn't answered any of my prayers," Sam informed him. "One minute I was down there in the hole and the next thing I know it was raining. I woke up in Stull Cemetery alone." He shrugged. "I didn't have any leads, but I searched for answers. I searched for weeks."

"Wait, _weeks_?" Dean frowned. "How long have you been back?"

Sam met his question with silence.

"How long, Sammy?" Dean asked more firmly.

Sam and Bobby exchanged glances. "Almost nine months," Sam replied eventually.

"Nine months?" Dean repeated incredulously. "_Nine_ frigging months?!" He looked at Bobby. "And you knew?"

"You were out," Bobby replied. "Out of this crazy life."

"If we would have told you, you would have gone back to hunting," Sam insisted.

"I _did_ go back to hunting," Dean reminded them. "I tried the domestic thing and it wasn't for me."

"If I told you I was back, you never would've even tried," Sam countered. "You deserved a chance at happiness." He glanced past Dean at Martha. "You still do."

"You should have told me," Dean maintained.

Sam exhaled. "I'm telling you now." He paused. "Because I need you, Dean." He hesitated. "_We_ need you."

Dean arched his brow. "_We_?" He glanced at Bobby then back at Sam. "What _we_ would that be?"

"I've been hunting with some people."

"You hooked up with _strangers_?"

"Not strangers," Sam told him. "They're like family." He paused again. "Actually…they _are_ family. They're Campbells. Gwen, Mark, Johnny and Christian. They grew up in the life. Just like mom and just like us."

"Mom has more family out there?" Dean shook his head as he tried to absorb everything Sam was saying. "How did we not know about them?"

"Because they never knew about you," another male voice answered. "Not until I gathered Sam and them together."

Dean turned towards the sound and came face to face with his grandfather. "Samuel?"

Samuel pulled a stunned Dean into a hug. He pulled back and looked at Dean, who was still staring at him in disbelief. "Lot of resurrections in your face today." He clapped him on the back. "It's alright. Take a minute."

Dean scoffed softly. "It's gonna take a little more than a minute."

* * *

Dean was still reeling from the revelations about Sam and Samuel's resurrections. Martha wanted to find a way to comfort him, so she did what came naturally.

She exited Bobby's kitchen and rejoined the four men in the study. She passed a mug of tea to each of them before sitting down to take a sip from her own cup.

"Tea?" Samuel questioned.

"I'm British," Martha retorted. "It's how we cope."

"How'd the two of you meet?" the older man asked.

"Vampires in a hospital morgue," Martha explained. "I saved his life."

"You're a hunter?" Sam questioned.

"A doctor."

"Only by trade," Bobby insisted. "Soul of a hunter, that one." He nodded his head towards Martha. "And too damn good for the likes of Dean," he joked.

"I don't know." Martha glanced at Dean. "He's alright."

"You said you needed me," Dean changed the subject. "Why?"

Sam looked at Samuel. "We've been tracking Djinn," he explained. "They've been disguising themselves as normal people."

"They dosed Sam with their hallucinatory poison," Samuel added. "But luckily I had the cure."

Dean scoffed. "You have an antidote for Djinn poison?"

"Oh, I know a _few_ things," Samuel countered with a smirk. "Stick around and I'll show you tricks your daddy never even dreamed of."

Sam turned to Dean. "I think they want revenge for that Djinn we ganked in Joliet a few years back. Which means—"

"I'm the next target," Dean concluded.

"Probably." Sam nodded.

"So what's the plan?" Dean looked from face to face.

"We need to lure it in," Samuel commented.

"You want Dean to be bait?" Martha asked.

Dean shrugged. "It wouldn't be the first time."

"When you leave here, just act normal," Samuel instructed. "Check into a motel. Do what you do for a few days and we'll see if the Djinn turns up."

Dean nodded then paused suddenly. "What about Lisa and Ben?"

"We already thought of that," Sam insisted. "We sent Johnny to keep an eye on them, but honestly I don't think they're the ones in danger." He glanced at Martha.

"Me?" Martha stared at Sam. "You think they'd come after me?"

"The two of you have being shacking up for months," Bobby commented.

"Shacking up?" Martha scoffed softly. "We've _barely_ snogged."

"We did a bit more than _barely_ snogging," Dean chimed in.

Martha cut him a look. "Don't go showing off for your mates."

Dean held his hands up in defense. "All I'm saying is that if Bobby hadn't called, a _lot_ more than kissing would've happened."

"Are we really going to do this right now?" Martha asked.

"Cut the soap opera," Samuel demanded. "You're both going under protection." He looked at Dean and Martha. "Congratulations. You're the bait."


	7. Chapter 7

Martha leaned against the Impala and pumped petrol while Dean went inside the store to get some snacks. She wasn't crazy about the idea of them being bait for a Djinn, but it was all a part of being a hunter.

It was strange how comfortable she had become with this new life of hers. Not that it was completely new.

Martha was no stranger to danger that was for sure. She had more than her share of brushes with death while traveling with the Doctor and working for UNIT taught her to stay on her toes. But nothing prepared her more than her days as a freelance alien hunter with her ex-husband Mickey.

When she walked away from Mickey and their life as alien hunters, she never dreamed that she'd be back there again. Constantly on the road, searching and fighting. It was different this time though. Before, Mickey had convinced her to be a part of the life, but this time she chose it. She chose to be a hunter. And she had chosen Dean as well.

Dean exited the convenience store with a bag in hand. He strolled towards Martha with a strange look on his face. Martha could tell that he was still struggling with the Sam situation. If Leo or Tish had kept a secret like that from her, she knew she'd be just as crushed as Dean.

"Did you get those crisps I like?" Martha asked as she removed the pump and screwed the top back onto the gas tank.

"Yea." Dean opened the bag to look inside. "Grabbed a couple of sandwiches too."

"Good."

"Hey!" a female voiced called out from behind Dean. A pretty brunette ran to catch up with him. "Hey." She smiled at Dean. "I think you forgot your change."

Dean arched his brow. "Did I?"

"Not really," the brunette confessed with a coquettish grin. "But I wanted an excuse to give you this." She slipped a piece of paper into his hand and covered it with her own hand. "My name is Brigitta. Call me." She winked at him before sashaying away.

Dean looked down at the number on the paper and crumpled it up.

"Well she's bold, isn't she?" Martha scoffed playfully. "Are you going to call her?"

"Hadn't planned on it," Dean responded as he slipped behind the wheel.

Martha climbed into the passenger's seat. "She's pretty."

"She's more than just pretty. She's freaking hot," Dean retorted. "But I'm not interested."

"Oh?" Martha turned to him. "Why not?"

Dean looked at Martha seriously. "You _know_ why."

"Doesn't mean I don't want to hear it?" Martha replied with a smile.

"Because…" Dean exhaled. "She's not you."

Martha tried to hide her satisfaction, but it was useless. So she just gave into it. She leaned in close to Dean and pressed her lips against his. Dean slipped his hand behind her neck and held her close until they couldn't breathe anymore.

Martha pulled back slowly. "We should get back to the motel, yea?" she asked breathlessly.

Dean nodded as he shifted the Impala into gear. "Hell yea."

* * *

Dean was feeling a sense of déjà vu when he and Martha got to their motel room. Things started off hot and heavy, only to stop cold. He sat on the corner of the bed feeling anxious and aroused. The lamp flickered to the left of him. He glanced at it briefly before turning his attention back to Martha.

"I promise I'll be quick," Martha insisted as she stood between his legs wearing nothing but her underwear. "It's just that I haven't showered since Oklahoma."

Dean ran his hands up her bare thighs. "I don't mind," he told her with a smirk.

"Yea, but I do." Martha stroked his cheek. "You could always join me, you know. I wash your back. You wash mine."

Dean looked up into her eyes. "It may be hard for you to believe, but I'm not a 'sex in the shower' kind of guy."

Martha smirked and ran her fingers through the hairs at the nape of his neck. "I do find that hard to believe, actually."

Dean shrugged. "It's a stability issue."

"Just give me five minutes, yea?"

Dean moved his hands to the small of her back and pulled her flush against him. "Five minutes, then I'm starting without you," he warned.

Martha smirked against his lips. "Deal."

Dean briefly reconsidered his position on shower sex as he watched Martha walk away, but thought better of it. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Five minutes. He was five minutes away from the moment he had been waiting four months for.

He leaned back against the bed and closed his eyes. Five minutes seemed like forever when you were waiting for something you wanted.

He felt a drop on his forehead, followed by another and another. He ran his fingers across his brow and opened his eyes to inspect his hand. His fingertips were red. Like blood. He glanced up at the ceiling and his heart dropped down into his stomach.

Martha was pinned to the ceiling with a deep, bloody gash sliced into her abdomen. There was a terrified look on her face.

"MARTHA!" Dean reached for her as the ceiling around her burst into flames. "NO!" he shrieked painfully. "NO!"

"C'mon kiddo," a male voice laughed wickedly beside him. "You never been what I'd call brainy, but you _had_ to know this was coming."

Dean turned to the right and looked straight into the yellow eyes of Azazel.

Azazel grinned. "Hiya Dean."

Dean shook his head. "You can't be."

Azazel laughed cruelly. "Sure I can!"

"No. You're not real." Dean glanced up at Martha again and wailed. "None of this is real!"

"Big daddy brought your pal Cas back, right? So why not me?" Azazel asked with a smirk. "Add a little spice to all that sugar."

Dean stumbled to his feet. "No," he protested as he made for the door. He just needed to get to the Impala. Everything would be fine if he could get to the trunk. Get to the Colt.

"You can't outrun your past, Dean," Azazel insisted. "And you can't outrun me." He grabbed Dean by the neck and began to choke him. "I could let you burn like your pretty lady up there, but I prefer a more _hands-on_ approach with you Winchesters." He tightened his grip.

Dean gasped for air as Azazel attempted to crush his windpipe. 'It's not real,' he told himself as he grew weaker. 'None of it is real.' It had to be a dream. All he had to do was wake up…

* * *

Dean groaned as his eyes fluttered open. Instinctively, he looked up at the ceiling. It was as it had been before. Dull grey with cracks in the paint, but there were no indication of fire and there was no sign Martha. "Martha?"

"I'm here," Martha replied softly from next to him on the bed. Her hair was still wet from the shower and she had put on one of his flannel shirts. "You're okay now." She caressed his face gently and he closed his eyes at the warmth of her touch.

"You got dosed by a Djinn," Sam informed him.

"It had to be that girl from the petrol station," Martha told Sam. "She said her name was Brigitta."

"Don't you worry. We'll take care her," Samuel insisted.

"Do you mean you're going to kill her?" Martha asked.

"I mean we'll handle it," Samuel answered tersely with a note of finality in his voice.

Martha eyed Samuel for a moment before looking at Sam. "If the two of you have the Djinn under control, I think Dean should get some rest."

Sam nodded. "You got a bigger dose than I did."

Dean sat up on the bed. "We should talk," he told Sam.

"We will," Sam assured him. "Tomorrow."

Martha walked the two men to the door and showed them out before returning to Dean on the bed. "You gave me a fright back there."

"You're not a real hunter until you've been possessed or infected at least once," Dean joked.

"Does that mean I'm not a real hunter yet?"

Dean sighed softly and looked her in the eyes. "You'll never be if I have a say in it."

Martha touched his knee. "You were screaming." She paused. "What did you see?" she asked cautiously.

Dean exhaled. "Azazel, the demon that killed my mom."

"You saw your mum's death?"

Dean shook his head. "Yours."

"Oh." Martha looked unnerved by the thought, but she quickly shook it off. "It wasn't real."

"Part of me knew that, but…" Dean closed his eyes momentarily. "It _felt_ real. Too real."

"That's not real." Martha touched his face. "_This_ is real. You and me."

"I'm starting to think we're jinxed," He joked with a soft chuckle. "Two interruptions in twenty-four hours."

Martha moved her hand higher up his leg. Dean glanced down at her hand then into her big brown eyes. "Nothing is stopping us now," she told him.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean looked at Martha. There was something different in her expression. Something more tender than the other times they had broached the subject of sex. She removed her hand from his knee and stood up.

Dean observed her as she slowly undid the buttons on the flannel shirt she had borrowed from him. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and watched her intently. Martha moved a step closer to him, allowing him to finish off the last few buttons. Dean pushed the shirt open and rested his hands on the small of her back.

Martha cupped Dean's face in her hands, caressing his jawline with her thumbs. "You're alright, yea?" she asked, realizing that he might still be suffering from the effects of the Djinn's poison.

"More than alright," Dean assured her with a nod and a slight smirk. His hands found the fly on her jeans and he unzipped the zip. He pushed her jeans down over her hips and eased them lower until they pool on the ground around her ankles.

Martha stepped out of her jeans and kicked them to the side with her foot. She slipped her hands behind his neck and pulled him towards her. Once Dean was on his feet, he pulled Martha into a heated kiss. Her lips were as soft as he remembered and she tasted like mint. She must have brushed her teeth while she was in the bathroom.

Martha grasped the hem of Dean's t-shirt and tugged upward. Dean broke their kiss momentarily and discarded his shirt on the ground along with her jeans. Once it was off, Dean found her mouth again and kissed her eagerly.

Martha ran her hands over Dean's bare chest as they kissed. She pulled away from his lips hesitantly, leaving Dean pining and confused. She placed her right hand over his tattoo and traced its outline, just as she had done before back in Oklahoma. "We're linked," she commented.

Dean instinctively ran his fingers over the tattoo on her hip. "Matching tattoos are considered a form of commitment in some circles," he quipped using her words.

"Is that what we are?" Martha asked. "Committed?"

Dean fell silent for a moment. Were they committed? They were always together, but that was the nature of hunting. He did realize something though.

The moments that they were separated were rare, but when they were apart, he missed her. Even if it was only a trip to the bathroom or a food run, he felt himself counting the seconds until they were reunited.

Then there was the fact that he had gone months without giving other women so much as a second glance. They flirted with him and on occasion he'd flirt back, but he never thought about taking things further. That was brand new territory for him.

"Do you _want_ to be…committed?" he asked.

"It'll change things."

"How? Less clothes and more sex?" Dean joked with a smirk.

"There's that," Martha agreed with a soft chuckle. "But there'll be more to lose as well."

"Either of us could die at any moment," Dean reminded her. "That's even more reason for us to go for it, right?"

"Yea, but if we do this, we have to be together on it," Martha insisted. "We're a team, Dean. You can't just decide things on your own anymore. You can't push me away if things get tough." She paused. "Or dangerous."

"Martha…" Dean pulled her flush against his body. "The last thing I want to do is push you away." He kissed her deeply. He could tell that Martha had more to say, but she gave into his kiss all the same.

Martha wrapped her arms around Dean's neck and clung to his lips like her life depended on it. She broke away from him briefly to catch her breath. "Where were we?"

Dean ran his hands up her back and found the clasp on her bra. He slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, unhooking it effortlessly. "I think we were about here," he replied as he tossed her bra to the side.

* * *

Martha moaned softly as she felt the warmth of Dean's breath against her inner thigh. She twirled his hair around her fingers while he teased her with his tongue.

The part of her that was still capable of coherent thought wondered how she manage to go eight months without being seductively touched or sensually devoured.

She tried to remember the last time she had sex. She still had memories of a life she never lived with the nurse named Rory, but those didn't count. That meant the last time was with Mickey.

Nothing like a brush with death to put you in the mood. Considering her current situation with Dean, she guessed some things never changed. It was different though. She and Dean were at the start of something new, but that last time with Mickey was them trying to hold on to something neither one of them believed would last.

She pushed the thoughts of her ex-husband out of her head. Somehow it seemed like poor form to be thinking about your ex while shagging someone new. Plus, she didn't want to start mentally comparing their performances. On the other hand, if the foreplay was any indication of the things to come, Dean was ahead of the competition.

Dean took the long route back up to her lips, kissing her stomach and breasts along the way. She trembled beneath his lips, still riding the waves of pleasure.

"You're _really_ good at that," Martha panted softly.

Dean nuzzled her neck. "I've had four months to mentally perfect the technique."

Martha laughed softly. "Well done."

Dean placed his hands on her hips and slipped between her legs. "We're just getting started."

* * *

Dean stared up at the ceiling. Martha lay across his chest and their fingers were entwined. He snaked his arm around her waist and held her against him. As much as he loved the sex, holding her there in his arms made him happy. It was the best he had felt in ages.

Martha propped her chin on his chest and looked in his eyes. "I've been thinking," she informed him softly. "About Sam."

"That's a mood killer," Dean joked.

"Not like that," Martha smirked. "I was just wondering how he'll react to us being…well an _us_."

Dean shrugged. "He never had a problem with Lisa."

"Lisa never hunted with you," Martha reminded him. "Besides. Sam and you still have a lot of unresolved issues you need to work through. And I just don't want to be the thing that comes between the two of you."

Dean caressed her back with his free hand. "Sam and I have been through a lot over the years. A woman wouldn't come between the two of us." He looked into her eyes. "Even one as awesome as you."

"So are we just one great big team now?"

Dean nodded. "If Sam can bring Samuel and the Campbells along, then I can bring you," he insisted.


	9. Chapter 9

Despite Dean's insistence on her hunting with Sam and him, Martha was adamant about giving the brothers time to reconnect. So she returned to Chicago to leave them to their reconciliation with the promise of rejoining them soon.

She was a bit surprised to see a solo Dean on the doorstep of her flat a little over a week later, but she was happy all the same.

"I thought you weren't a 'sex in the shower' kind of guy," Martha asked with a smirk as she felt his hands on her wet skin.

"First time for everything, right?" he retorted as he kissed her beneath the water.

"And a second. And a third," Martha joked against his lips.

"Number three was the only one in the shower," he reminded her as he turned the water off.

"I remember. Vividly," Martha replied with a nod as she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around herself. "The first time was on the sofa right after you showed up at my flat and then again last night in bed."

"It was a long week without you," Dean sighed softly as he toweled himself off.

Martha held her towel against herself and leaned against the vanity. She and Dean had been so wrapped up in each other the night before that they never discussed how things were going with Sam.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Martha pressed gently.

"Not really." Dean exited the bathroom ahead of her.

By the time Martha caught up to him in the bedroom, he had already pulled his boxers and jeans on. "Are the two of you going to meet up again soon?"

"No." Dean glanced at her as she slipped her underwear on. "The three of us."

Martha paused as she reached for her clothes. "Do you think that's a good idea?"

"There's only one way to know for sure."

Martha continued getting dressed. "I guess the only thing we need now is a case."

As if on cue, Dean's cell phone began to ring. He picked it up from Martha's nightstand and answered. "Sammy. Yea?" He glanced at Martha as he listened to his brother. "We'll be there in a few hours."

"Where are we headed?" Martha asked once he was off the phone.

"Michigan."

Martha nodded. "I'll pack a bag."

* * *

Sam was standing next to his car when the Impala pulled up. Dean climbed out first, followed by Martha. Sam looked her over before turning his attention to his brother.

"You said you needed my help." Dean came to a stop in front of him. "Where is it?"

Sam jerked his head toward his car. "It's strapped down in the back seat." He watched Dean walk past him and look at the baby in the back of his car. Dean stepped away with a tense look on his face. "Welcome to the party, Guttenberg," Sam quipped.

"We're gonna need supplies," Dean told Sam as he walked towards him again.

"My trunk is loaded."

Dean scoffed softly. "Not that kind, Sammy."

* * *

"So much for the standard milk run," Dean grumbled as they piled into Sam's motel room. "What could shifters want with a baby?"

Sam shrugged. "Baby stew?"

"He doesn't mean that, Bobby John." Martha whispered to the baby boy as she bounced him on her knee.

"Nice and dry?" Dean asked Martha as he walked towards her.

Martha shifted Bobby John to her hip and stood up. "And ready for a nap I'd say."

Dean lifted Bobby John from Martha's arm and bounced him in his arms. He began to hum Smoke on the Water to him.

Sam laughed softly. "Dean, you're gonna make it cranky again."

"Shh. It's working." Dean walked over to the crib they had gotten from the motel staff. "If I put you down, you gonna be a man about it?" he asked Bobby John, who offered a tiny sigh in response.

"Well done." Martha beamed from the bed.

Dean shrugged. "It was nothing much."

"No. She's right," Sam insisted. "You have a whole Dr. Huxtable vibe going on."

"I got a bit of practice with Ben," Dean explained. "And Lisa's little niece."

Martha smiled a little brighter. "You're a natural."

Dean shrugged again. "I don't know about all that." He glanced down at Bobby John in his crib. "I don't hate it though."

Martha stood up and walked over to him. "I think you'd be a brilliant dad," she said close to his ear.

Sam cleared his throat causing Dean and Martha to pull away from each other. "I just noticed something I missed before," he commented suddenly. "The house on Elm. The dad is still alive."

"Let's go and have a chat with him," Dean suggested.

* * *

Martha felt that odd twinge as she sat alone in the motel room watching Bobby John sleep. What was it about babies and puppies that made you want one after a few minutes alone with one? Seeing Dean with the little boy didn't help matters any.

She lay across the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Was she crazy to be thinking about having a kid with Dean? They had only known each other for a few months and it had barely been a fortnight since they got together.

Martha had a bad habit of falling hard and fast though. She had done it many times before. The Doctor. Tom. Mickey. Even her dream nurse, Rory. Each time she was a little more hesitant to fall in love, but none of that mattered when she met Dean.

Maybe it was because she already knew they'd fall in love.

Her conversation with River in her other life felt like a dream now, but she still remembered River's words. She was going to meet a man in a hospital. Someone broken and alone that she would fix and the two of them were going to fall in love. River had seen it. Dean was her future.

Martha was broken from her thoughts by a weird noise and cries coming from Bobby John's crib. She sat up and saw blood and mucus splatter on the walls near the crib. "Oh my God." Her breath caught in her throat as she leapt from the bed and rushed to Bobby John's crib. She looked down into the crib and saw a wailing Bobby John looking up at her. She lifted the child of the crib gently and stared at him in awe. Bobby John was a shifter and he had just shifted to match the image of the black baby on the nappy box.

* * *

Once they figured out that Bobby John was a shifter, Dean realized that the papa shifter would come looking for him. The Alpha shifter as Sam called it. What Dean hadn't counted on was Samuel and the others using Bobby John as bait.

"Alright?" Martha asked as they rode in the Impala back to their motel.

"I dunno," Dean answered tersely.

Martha rubbed his knee as he drove. "Is this about Bobby John? Because we did the best we could. That other shifter was just stronger than us."

"I know." Dean paused. "Something just didn't feel right about the whole thing."

"Shape shifters posing as women's husbands and shagging them then killing them and snatching the kids. What could possibly feel wrong about that?" she asked sarcastically.

"Not about the shifters…" Dean glanced at her. "About Sam."

"Sam?"

Dean blew a quick breath out through his nose. "Something just seems off with him. It's like I don't even know him anymore."

"Well he was stuck in hell with Lucifer and Michael. That had to have an effect on him."

"Of course," Dean agreed. "But that's another thing that's been bothering me. I mean how the hell did he get out of that cage? And for that matter, how the hell was Samuel resurrected?"

"There has to be some explanation."

"Neither of them seems to be bothered about it."

"A second chance at life." Martha shrugged. "A lot of people _wouldn't_ question it."

Dean shook his head. "Sam's not a lot of people."


	10. Chapter 10

Martha had a look of awe on her face as she paced back and forth in the motel room in Easter, Pennsylvania. She had seen a lot of things in her life, but this was taking things to a whole new level. "I can't bloody believe it."

"Blood, boils, locusts," Dean ratted off a list as he sifted through biblical imagery.

"Three of your more popular Egyptian plagues," Sam concluded.

Martha shook her head. "Un-bloody-believable."

Dean picked up a jar containing the locusts they collected from Ed Colfax's skull. "Yeah, but these guys ate their way out of a cop's melon." He passed the jar to Martha, who turned it over in her hands a few times. "I don't quite remember that in the King James."

"Meanwhile," Sam cut in, "A kid named Christopher Birch was shot in the head last month after a vehicle pursuit. Hatch, Gray, and Colfax were the three officers involved and they all filed the _exact_ same police report."

Dean reading the police report aloud. "Suspect exited vehicle brandishing a firearm. We were forced to fire."

Martha set the jar on the table with a frown. "It's just like Officer Colfax said," she reminded them. "'Just a kid with no face and a planted gun.'"

"Bunch of dicks." Dean shook his head. "They pop the kid and plant the piece."

"Maybe Colfax was right." Sam shrugged. "Maybe heaven really does have a hate-on for bad cops."

Dean scoffed. "We're listening to the guy with the bug in his custard? That's the theory you want to go with?"

"It's the only theory we have," Martha reminded him.

Dean exhaled sharply. "We should call Cass."

Martha perked up. "Cass? As in Castiel? _The_ Cass?" she asked eagerly, causing Dean to smirk. "Bloody hell. I'm gonna meet an angel."

"You're mighty eager given the company you keep," Dean quipped as he grabbed a beer from the refrigerator.

"The Doctor is one thing, but this is a bloody angel of God we're talking about here," Martha insisted.

Sam scoffed. "You're kidding me, right?" He looked at Dean and Martha in disbelief.

"What?" Dean looked at his brother. "Biblical plagues, this is right up Cass' alley."

"Dean," Sam paused to choose his words. "I tried talking to Cass. It was the first thing I did as soon as I got topside. Son of a bitch wouldn't answer the phone."

"Let's give it a shot." Dean shrugged as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. "Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here."

Sam shook his head. "You're an idiot."

"Stay positive," Dean insisted.

"Oh, I _am_ positive."

"Come on, Cass! Don't be a dick."

Martha sat next to Dean on the bed. "I don't think you're supposed to use the word _dick_ in a prayer."

"Cass…." Dean exhaled. "We got ourselves a plague-like situation down here." He paused and opened one eye to check for Castiel's arrival. No luck. "Cass, do you copy?"

"Like I said, the son of a bitch doesn't answer." Sam's eyes went to Martha who seemed to be staring at someone behind him. "He's right behind me, isn't he?"

"Hello," Castiel responded.

Martha exhaled softly as she took in the sight of the angel in the trench coat. "I gotta admit…" She leaned in close to Dean. "I was sorta expecting Michael Landon."

"Hello," Sam repeated incredulously as he stared at Castiel.

Castiel gave a nod. "Yes."

"_Hello_," Sam mocked Cass. "Just…_hello_."

Castiel stared at Sam in confusion. "That _is_ still the term, yes?"

Sam scoffed. "I spent all that time trying to get through to you. Dean calls _once_ and now it's just _hello_?!"

Castiel exhaled. "Yes."

Sam scoffed again. "What? You like him better or something?" He gestured towards Dean.

Castiel crossed the room. "Dean and I do share a more profound bond."

Martha laughed to herself. "My boyfriend has a bromance with an angel."

Castiel glanced at Dean. "I wasn't gonna mention it."

"C'mon Cass." Dean stood up from the bed. "Sam went to Hell for us. I mean, he _literally_ took one for the team. Then he comes back without a clue and you can't take five friggin' minutes to give him some answers?"

"If I _had_ any answers, I might have responded," Castiel replied tensely. "But I don't know. We have no idea who brought Sam back from the cage. Or why."

"So it wasn't God?" Sam asked.

"No one's even seen God. The whole thing remains mysterious."

Sam scoffed. "What the hell does _that_ mean?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Sam. "What part of 'I don't know' escapes your understanding?"

"Look Cass," Dean stood between him and Sam. "Bond or not. If Sam calls, you get your winged ass down here and—"

Castiel glanced at Dean. "You think I came because _you_ called?" He walked over to the table where the research was spread out. "I came because of this. There's only one thing that could have brought this into existence. You call it the Staff of Moses.

"_The_ Staff?" Martha marveled.

"As I recall, it was used in a dominance display against the Egyptians," he informed Martha.

Martha nodded. "So I've heard."

"I thought the Staff turned a river into blood, not one dude," Sam commented.

"The weapon isn't being used at full capacity." Castiel paused. "I think we can rule Moses out as a suspect."

Dean rolled his eyes. "What is Chuck Heston's disco stick doing down here, anyway?" he demanded. "I mean, don't you guys put away your toys?"

"Before the apocalypse, Heaven may have been corrupt, but it was stable." Castiel sighed. "It's been chaos up there since the war ended. In that confusion, a number of powerful weapons were…stolen."

"Are you saying your nukes are loose?" Dean asked.

Castiel nodded. "I'm afraid so."

"Right," Martha exhaled. "So we have a dead kid, the staff of Moses and three dirty coppers struck down by biblical plagues." She looked at the boys. "Doesn't take a genius to sort that one out."

"One of my brothers is behind this," Castiel declared.

Dean grabbed his jacket. "Well let's found out which one and put a stop to this before it starts raining fire down on the whole damned precinct."

* * *

Martha sat on the hood of the Impala as Dean and Sam tried to make room for Sam's things in the Impala's trunk. "Angels aren't anything thing like I expected." She frowned. "Load of tossers, really."

"Tossers," Sam looked at Dean for a translation.

"Dicks," Dean clarified.

"Right." Sam nodded.

"Speaking of dick moves," Dean paused as he chose his words. "Been a few times that you've had me wondering."

Sam scoffed. "Are you saying I've been a dick?"

Martha slid off the hood and moved next to Dean. "I'm sure that's not what he meant." She looked at Dean. "Right?"

Dean shrugged. "When Cass was giving the Holy Taser treatment to that kid, it kinda felt like Martha and I were the only ones bothered."

"We needed the information," Sam countered.

"I know, but we tortured that kid to get it. And I just got the feeling that you didn't even care, Sammy."

Sam sighed. "I've been hunting non-stop for the past year, Dean. So, yeah. I suppose I'm a little rough around the edges."

"I get that. I just don't think I'm getting the whole scoop," Dean replied. "You went to hell, Sam. And believe me. I _know_ what that does to a guy."

"You know what it does to _you_," Sam countered. "It tortured you." He paused. "I think it still does." He shrugged. "But, Dean..._I'm_ okay."

Dean scoffed. "So you're saying you're stronger than me now?"

Sam chuckled. "No. I'm just saying we're different." He slipped inside of the Impala.

Dean stood by the door to the driver's side shaking his head. "I'm telling you, Martha. Something isn't right with him."

Martha gave him a sympathetic smile. "We'll figure it."


	11. Chapter 11

"So how did the in-laws receive you?" Sam teased as he slipped into the passenger's seat of the Impala. After their trip to Scotland to help Bobby get one over on Crowley, Martha and Dean hung back a few days to visit her family in London.

"My mum slapped him," Martha told Sam from the backseat.

"And her ex threatened me."

"My mum is just overprotective," Martha insisted. "And Mickey's harmless."

Dean scoffed. "I'm not afraid of any dude that shares a name with a freaking cartoon mouse."

"Anyway," Sam changed the subject. "Limestone, Illinois." He flipped through a couple of Missing Person fliers. "Six girls have gone missing in seven days. That's more disappearances than this city has seen in over a year," he informed them. "They're all about the same age too."

"They sorta look alike," Martha commented over Sam's shoulder.

Sam glanced back at Martha. "A seventh one just went missing."

"Let's start with her then," Dean decided.

* * *

The three of them stood in the bedroom of the latest missing girl, Kristen. Sam glanced around at the gothic décor and movie merchandise. "Vampires?" he scoffed softly.

Dean scoffed as well. "These aren't vampires. They're douchebags."

Sam rifled through Kristen's bedding until he discovered her laptop. "Jackpot." He set it on the desk and booted it up.

Dean picked up one the books lying around and grimaced. "Look at this." He gestured to the cover. "I mean he's watching her sleep. How is that not rapey?"

Martha laughed softly. "Different strokes for different folks." She took the book from him and leafed through the pages. "'He could hear the blood rushing inside her, almost taste it,'" she read aloud. "'He tried desperately to control himself. Romero knew their love was impossible.'" She cringed at the words.

"_Romero_?" Dean grimaced. "Seriously?" He picked up one the vampire pillows covering the bed and tossed it. "This is a national bestseller. How is that possible?"

Martha looked up from the book in her hands. "Have you tried Pattinson?"

"How many T's are there—" Sam grinned. "That's it. We're in!"

Dean stared at Martha in shock. "Seriously?"

Martha waved off Dean's stare. "My best mate Nicola went through this phase. Don't ask."

"Her inbox is full of messages from some guy claiming to be a vampire." Sam informed the pair of them.

"A _real_ vampire?" Dean questioned. "I mean it's probably just a human mouth-breather, right?"

Sam shrugged. "Could be vampires phishing for victims."

Martha closed the book and set it on the bed. "This _is_ the Twilight generation we're talking about here."

Sam scoffed softly. "Talk about easy prey. I mean, these chicks are just throwing themselves at you. All you gotta do is write bad poetry."

"Did they make any plans for a meet and greet?" Dean asked.

"Yea." Sam nodded. "At a place called The Black Rose."

"The Black Rose?" Dean rolled his eyes. "Gimme a freaking break."

* * *

Martha lost track of the boys in the club. The guy she was tailing turned out to be just an emo kid as opposed to an actual vampire. She had no idea which way Sam went, but she thought she saw Dean headed for the alley. When she stepped outside, a girl in a tight black dress rushed past her. She turned the corner and saw Dean scare off a guy wearing glitter. "No luck?"

"No." Dean shook his head as he walked towards her. "Just a moron trying to get laid."

"Maybe Sam found something."

Dean nodded. "Yea. C'mon." The two of them headed back towards the door.

"You're pretty," a heavy voice came from the shadows.

Martha paused. "Excuse me?"

"I said..." A man with long curly hair stepped into view. "You're pretty."

"Sorry. She's not interested," Dean retorted.

"Actually, I was talking to you." The man smirked.

"Sorry again, pal. I don't play for your team." The man grabbed Dean by his collar and flung him across the alley, sending Dean crashing into a nearby dumpster and knocking him out.

Martha instinctually reached for the hunting knife she hid under her jacket. "Sod off, mate."

The man laughed. "Where the fun in that?"

Martha took a swipe at him with her knife, but he easily dodged her attack. Before she knew it, Martha was against the wall and completely at his mercy. "My boyfriend is going to eat you alive," she told him defiantly.

The man laughed harder as he pinned Martha with his right arm and brought his wrist up to his fangs. "Not if you get to him first." He tore into his own flesh smeared his blood over Martha's lips.

Martha tried to fight him off, but his blood filled her mouth.

Dean shook off the dizziness as he stumbled to his feet. His eyes immediately went to Martha. "Martha!" The guy let go of Martha and she slumped down the wall onto the ground.

"Leave her alone you son of a bitch!" Dean grabbed a lead pipe and charged him.

At the opposite end of the alley, Sam began running towards them with his machete brandished. "NO!"

The guy took one look at the two of them and smirked. "Catch you later, pretty boy," he winked at Dean, scurried up the wall and out of sight.

Sam stood in the alley looking upward towards where he disappeared. Meanwhile, Dean rushed to Martha's side. He pushed her hair away from her face. "Martha?" he spoke softly. "Tell me he didn't get his blood in your mouth."

Martha wiped the blood away with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry," she croaked softly.

* * *

Dean paced back and forth in their motel room as he watched Martha sleep. He sent Sam out for coffee. He needed time to think.

Sam insisted on calling Samuel, but Dean wasn't about to let him lay a finger on her. If anyone had to do it, it would be him. Martha would want it that way.

"Can you do something about that bloody light," Martha groaned as she sat up in bed. Dean obediently switched off the light as she crawled off the bed. "It's so loud. And bright."

"Martha," Dean spoke softly.

His heart raced and the sound banged in Martha's ear like a drum. She winced. "I know what you're thinking Dean," she looked at him. "But I'm a monster and we both know what needs to be done."

Dean drew in a sharp breath. "Let's not go there just yet," he pleaded.

"I can't live like this," she shook her head. "That is if I'm even still living." She scoffed. "You think about death a lot in my line of work, but I never thought I'd go out like this."

"No one's dying." Dean voice wavered, but he quickly steeled himself. "I'm gonna fix this. There's gotta be a spell or something—"

Martha grabbed Dean and flung him down onto the bed. She straddled him and pinned her arm under his throat. "Do you know how delicious you smell right now?" she asked as she leaned in close to his neck. She inhaled his scent.

Dean gritted his teeth as he forced some space between them. "Fight it, Martha. You gotta fight it!"

"But I'm so hungry," Martha panted softly. Her lips brushed against his neck. "I just want a little taste."

The door to the motel room swung open. "Down, girl." Samuel stepped inside followed by Sam.

Martha climbed off of Dean. "What are you going to do, old man?" she challenged. "Kill me?"

Samuel gripped his machete tightly in his hand. "I could. Or I could just cure you."

* * *

The cure Samuel gave Martha was minging. She was sure it was psychological, but no matter how many times she brushed her teeth she couldn't seem to get the taste out of her mouth. She put her toothbrush down and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She knew her fangs had disappeared, but she couldn't stop herself from checking again.

Dean was sitting on the bed when she left the bathroom. He was good with stoic expressions, but she could tell he was worried.

"I guess I'm a full-fledged hunter now," she joked as they climbed between the covers.

Dean pulled her into his arms and stroked her shoulder with his thumb. "I'm just glad Samuel had a cure."

"And if he didn't?" Martha questioned. "Would you have killed me?"

Dean exhaled sharply. "Martha…"

"Just promise me," Martha cut him off. "If there comes a time when there isn't a cure…" She paused. "You'll be the one to put me out of my misery."

Dean sat up in bed. "You do realize you're asking me to gank you, right?"

Martha sat up as well. "I'm asking you to be merciful. I couldn't live with myself if I hurt some innocent person."

"But you expect me to live with your blood on my hands?" Dean challenged.

Martha sighed. "Hopefully it never comes to that."

Dean fell back against the bed. "Can we just talk about something else?"

"You just want to talk?"

Dean laughed softly. "I thought you might need some rest." He ran his hands over her back. "How ya feeling anyway?"

Martha exhaled sharply. "After I drank the cure, I kept getting flashes. Like everything was happening in reverse. I saw all those vamps…people…I killed to get to Boris. And…"

"What?"

Martha hesitated and simply shook her head. "Nothing," she lied. "I'm just glad it's all over." She forced a smile.

"Me too." Dean pulled her down to his level and kissed her forehead.

Martha snuggled up to him again and closed her eyes. She hated lying to him, but she couldn't tell him what was really bothering her. The fact that she basically executed a whole nest of vampires was hard for her to swallow, but something else weighed heavily on her mind.

During her flashbacks, she got a better picture of what happened in the alley. After Boris knocked Dean out and attacked her, she remembered seeing Sam at the other end of the alley. He stood there and watched as Boris forced her to drink his blood. And worse than that, she swore she saw him smile.

Sam let her get turned and that meant only one thing. Dean was right about something being wrong with him.


	12. Chapter 12

It had been a week since Martha was attacked, but Dean had noticed a shift in their group's dynamics. It was bad enough that Sam had been acting weird since his return from Lucifer's cage, but now Martha was behaving strangely as well.

Until now, the two of them had shared a motel room and Sam slept in a separate one. Now she insisted that Dean room with Sam while she stayed alone. She didn't object when Dean joined her in the middle of the night, but he could tell that she was more resistant than before. She didn't even go with them to question people anymore. He and Sam would go alone while she stayed behind to do research. Whenever he called her on it, she just said she was giving him and Sam time to bond, but Dean wasn't buying it. Something was definitely up with Martha and he was starting to get tired of her keeping it from him.

The three of them were in Illinois investigating a rash of suicides that resulted from the victims being bombarded by the truth. Dean had just followed up a lead that led nowhere and now he needed a drink. He drained the shot glass the pretty bartender set before him and weighed his options about getting another when his phone rang. "Hey Sammy, what's up?"

"I just left the coroner," Sam informed him. "All the victim's bodies are gone."

"What? Like they just up and vanished?"

"That's what the coroner said, but I think have a lead. One of the missing bodies, a woman named Corey, she died a whole week before everybody else."

"Was it a suicide?"

"Well, it was reported as a car accident, but no reason it couldn't have been."

Dean nodded. "So that could make her our patient zero, right?"

"Yea," Sam agreed. "I'm thinking maybe whatever got this whole curse thing rolling started with her. I'm at her place now, corner of Burnham and 159th."

Dean stared at his empty shot glass. "I'll meet you there. Just give me ten." He hung up and looked at the bartender. "You know what? I think I _will_ have that other drink."

"Are you okay?" the bartender asked.

"No." Dean shook his head. "Not really."

"It's on me." The bartender smiled and poured Dean a shot. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

Dean sighed softly. "Honestly, I'd just like the freaking truth." He lifted the shot glass to his lips and drained it. He slammed it down on the bar and slid it over to the bartender. "But I'll settle for another one of these."

"Sometimes I think I can't get pregnant because God knows my marriage is a sham," the bartender suddenly confessed to Dean. As soon as the words left her lips she frowned. "Why'd I say that?" Dean shook his head. "I mean I _have_ been snorting oxy all day," she continued. She paused again. "Why'd I say _that_?"

Dean exhaled. "I'm pretty sure I know."

* * *

After the bartender's outburst and one really uncomfortable phone conversation with Bobby, Dean was convinced that whatever had infected their suicide victims was now cursing him as well. Or maybe it wasn't a curse.

He sat in the Impala and dialed Martha's cellphone. "Hey."

"Hey," Martha echoed. "Any luck on that lead?"

"No. It was just a dead end." Dean paused. "What about you? Anything you want to tell me?"

"Not really. I haven't gotten much done. I can't concentrate," Martha told him.

"Why?"

"All this stuff about truth got me thinking about how much I hate lying." Martha exhaled. "It's like the pressure literally builds up inside of me. I mean Tish used to ask me to cover for her when she snuck out to meet up with blokes, but hated keeping it from my mum." She scoffed softly. "I swear if Tish wasn't so rubbish at sneaking around, I would've spilled to my mum every single time." She paused. "Where'd that come from?"

"What are you lying about this time?" Dean asked.

"I've been lying to you about wanting you and Sam to have time to bond."

"Why?" Dean pressed.

"Because I love you and I don't want to hurt you, but I really don't trust Sam. I mean, my skin crawls whenever I'm in the same room with him," Martha answered. "I don't even want to ride in the same car with him, much less work a bloody case together."

"What?" Dean scoffed. "You said loved Sam. Where is all of this suddenly coming from?"

"Well I did love him until he buggered off and all but feed me to a vampire," Martha replied bitterly. She gasped. "Why did I say that?"

"Feed you to a vampire?" Dean repeated.

"I saw him in the alley," Martha added. "He watched me get turned with a bloody smile on his face!" She paused. "Why am I telling you this?"

"What you saw…" Dean exhaled. "Are you _sure_ that's what you saw?"

"My boyfriend's brother hanging back while I get bitten by a vampire, yea, I think I'd remember that pretty vividly."

Dean wasn't sure what he was expecting to hear from Martha, but he definitely wasn't expecting what he got. He supposed it made sense though. She made a point never to be alone with Sam anymore. The two of them used to have conversations about all kinds of brainy stuff that Dean didn't get, but not anymore. In fact, with the exception of when they were in the Impala or having meals together, Martha had avoided being around Sam all together.

He knew something was off about Sam, but he wouldn't intentionally let something happen to Martha, would he? He thought back to Sam's insistence on letting Cass use painful means to extract information from that kid. The old Sam wouldn't have put someone's safety on the line for a lead. Then again the old Sam wouldn't have used a baby shifter as bait for an Alpha either.

Dean cleared his throat. "Don't worry," he told Martha after a few moments of silence. "I'll get to the bottom of it."

* * *

Dean met Sam on the stairwell to the first victim's apartment. "Where have you been?" Sam asked as they walked down the stairs together. "I found something." He showed Dean a small floral printed box.

"It can wait. We gotta talk," Dean insisted. "There's a few things I need to ask you and you're gonna tell me the truth."

"Of course I will, Dean. What are you talking about?" Sam paused. "Whoa. Are you saying _you're_—"

Dean nodded. "I asked for the truth and dammit I'm getting it. So, like I said, I have a few questions for you." He hesitated. "When that vamp attacked Martha, did you just stand there?"

Sam glanced down at his feet. "Yes."

"Why?" Dean demanded more harshly than he intended.

Sam looked up at Dean. "I froze."

"_You_ froze?" Dean scoffed. "You've been like frigging Terminator since you got back."

"I dunno." Sam shrugged. "I guess it was just shock. I wanted to stop it, but I froze. And then it was too late." He sighed. "I feel terrible about it, Dean. Believe me. I mean I can't lie here. And do you really think I would let something like that happen on _purpose_? You're my brother. Martha is like family. How could you even think—"

"Okay. Okay. Sorry," Dean cut him off. "Martha thought she saw something. And I thought...I guess I was wrong. It's just been a really, _really_ bad day."

"It's okay. I got your back, all right?" Sam put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "I always have." He started down the stair ahead of him.

Dean eyed Sam's back suspiciously. "Thanks, Sammy."

* * *

Dean paced back and forth staring at a bloodied Sam tied to a chair. The events of the last few hours played over and over in his head. The phone conversation he had with Martha. Sam telling him that he froze in the alley. Veritas freaking out about Sam's ability to lie to her. Dean didn't want to believe the worst, but when the freaking goddess of truth calls you on yours lies, then it's time to take stock.

"Are you going to tell us what happened?" Martha asked from Dean's side.

"He looks terrible," Castiel commented as he inspected Sam closely. He glanced back at Dean. "_You_ did this?"

Sam grunted and struggled against his restraints. "Will you let me go?"

Castiel continued his examination. "Has he been feverish?"

"Have you?" Dean demanded.

"No." Sam replied. "Why?"

"Is he speaking in tongues?" Castiel looked at Sam. "Are you speaking in tongues?"

"No." Sam recoiled slightly until his scrutiny. "Are you _diagnosing_ me?"

Dean folded his arms across his chest. "You better hope he can."

"How much do you sleep?" Castiel continued.

Sam exhaled. "I don't."

Martha took a step closer to Sam. "At all?"

Sam shook his head. "Not since I got back."

"You're been back for months," Martha stated skeptically. "Not sleeping that long. It's medically impossible! You'd be dead right."

"It never occurred to you that there might be something off about that," Dean questioned angrily.

"Of course it did, Dean," Sam answered. "I just never told you."

"Sam..." Castiel interrupted. "What are you feeling now?"

"I feel like Dean broke my nose." Dean rolled his eyes.

"No, that's a physical sensation," Castiel countered. "How do you _feel_?"

Sam hesitated. "I…don't know."

Castiel sighed softly and removed his belt. "This will be unpleasant," he informed Sam.

"W-w-what?" Sam stammered.

Castiel held his belt up to Sam's mouth. "Bite down on this," he instructed. "If there's someplace that you find soothing, you should go there in your mind." Before Sam could protest, Castiel pushed up his sleeve and plunged his arm into Sam's chest causing Sam to the scream painfully. After a few seconds, Castiel pulled his arm out of Sam's chest, leaving Sam gasping for breath.

"Did you find anything," Dean asked tensely.

"No."

Martha watched Cass warily. "So, is that good or bad?"

"Physically, he's perfectly healthy," Cass told them.

Dean unfolded his arms. "So then what is it?"

"It's his soul," Cass stared Dean in the eyes. "It's gone."


	13. Chapter 13

Dean glanced at a sleeping Martha as he silently pulled on his coat. Sam was his brother and he loved him. So he'd do anything to help him get his soul back. He had spent weeks being Crowley's bitch because a small part of him actually believed that it would help Sam. But of course Crowley fucked them over like he knew he would. Now he had only one choice left to get Sam's soul back. It was a risk, but he had to try.

And he had to go it alone.

He walked over to the bed and kissed Martha's forehead softly. As he pulled away, he left an envelope addressed to her against the pillow on his side of the bed. If everything went according to plan, things would go back to normal. If it didn't…well he could only hope for the best.

He reached for the keys to the Impala and headed for the door.

"I thought you would have realized by now, that I'm not that light of a sleeper," Martha's voiced called out behind him.

Dean sighed softly and turned to face her. She was sitting up in bed wearing one of his flannel shirts.

"A letter?" Martha lifted the envelope. "Is that how we do things now?"

"It was just in case," Dean explained simply.

Martha crawled from under the covers and stood up. "In case you did something stupid and got yourself killed?"

Dean forced a smile. "You know me."

"Yea, I _do_ know you." Martha walked over to him. "I know how much you love your brother. I know you teamed up with Crowley against your better judgment because of that. And I know how gutted you must feel to find out he was playing us the whole time."

"Crowley a demon. He didn't become the King of Hell by play by the rules. It was only a matter of time before he boned us. I was just hoping we could have gotten Sam's soul back before then."

"So that's why you're sneaking out at the break of dawn?" Martha asked. "You've come up with another way to get Sam's soul back?"

Dean hesitated. "Maybe."

"Tell me."

Dean exhaled sharply. "I'm going to see a friend of my dad's, this doctor guy that used to stitch him up all the time."

"A doctor?" Martha stared at him. "What kind of doctor?"

Dean looked down at his shoes momentarily before looking Martha in the eye. "He's going to kill me."

"What?!" Martha exclaimed incredulously. "Have you lost your bloody mind?"

"It'll just be temporary," Dean insisted. "Long enough for me to talk to Death."

"Death?" Martha scoffed softly. "As in Death? _The_ Death?"

"I still have his ring," Dean informed her.

"So what? You're gonna negotiate with Death? His ring for Sam's soul?"

"Yea." Dean nodded. "That's pretty much the plan."

Martha shook her head. "You're mental."

"I thought that's what you loved about me," Dean quipped.

"Yea, well it doesn't say much for my mental health either," Martha retorted as she picked up her jeans and pulled them on.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked as he watched her.

"We're a team aren't we?" Martha looked at him. "If you're planning on tempting fate, or _Death_, then it wouldn't hurt to have another doctor on hand," she reasoned. "And if it doesn't work…"

"Well let's just hope it does," Dean cut her off.

Martha gave him a sad smile and nodded resolutely. "Let's go make a deal with Death."

* * *

Bobby walked into the kitchen stretching his limbs. "Do you have a good nap?" Martha asked from near the counter.

"About as good as can be expected," Bobby replied gruffly.

"I made tea," Martha announced. "Yours is just how you like it," she added as she set a cup in front of him on the table.

Bobby sat down and lifted his tea to his lips. "Is that my good Scotch?"

"Nothing but the best for you, Bobby." Martha smirked.

"Thatta girl." Bobby smiled back and took another huge gulp of tea. He glanced around. "Where's Sam?"

Martha sat across from Bobby. "He said something about going for a drive."

Bobby sighed heavily. "We should keep an eye on him."

"I know." Martha nodded. "Just a little distracted." She stared down into her tea. She couldn't stop thinking about Dean. He had gone to see Death with the hopes of making a deal for Sam's soul. Death agreed with the stipulation that Dean had to wear his ring for twenty-four hours and act as Death in his place.

"Martha, I've known those boys for more than half their lives. They've gotten in and out of more scrapes that I can count. He'll be alright."

"I'm not worried about him…physically," Martha responded. She paused. "I've seen a lot of good people die as a doctor, Bobby. It messes with your head."

"Same goes for being a hunter."

"I know." Martha nodded. "Either way, it isn't easy knowing that whether someone lives or dies rests in your hands." She sighed. "I just want to know what Death is playing at. I mean what's his angle?"

"I doubt he's doing it out of the kindness of his heart."

"So what does he get out of making Dean be him?"

Bobby lifted his tea cup. "That's a damn good question."

* * *

Death's intentions would have to take a backseat. The only thing Martha could think about now was stopping Sam from attacking her and Bobby. "You don't have to do this," she insisted on the other side of the panic room door.

"Actually, I kinda do," Sam retorted.

Martha glanced over her shoulder at Bobby. Sam had knocked him unconscious. She briefly got the upper hand on him, thanks to the stock of a sawed off shot gun. And with Sam momentarily incapacitated, she managed to lock herself and Bobby in the panic room. It was only a temporary fix though. She knew it was only a matter of time before Sam got inside. "Bobby's like a father to you!"

"That's the whole point."

"You want to kill him _because_ he's like a father to you?"

Sam let out an exasperated sigh. "I need his blood to keep my soul out permanently."

Martha pressed her back against the door to panic room. "You're gonna have to come through me first."

Sam scoffed. "You say that like you think I won't kill you too."

"Not if I have anything to say about it." Dean countered from behind Sam's back. Sam turned to face him and Dean hit him hard with a right cross. Dean winced and flicked his hand. "Son of a bitch."

* * *

"Now what?" Bobby grumbled as the three of them started through the panic room window at Sam handcuffed to the bed.

"We can't keep locking him up every time he tries to kill someone." Dean glanced over his shoulder. "It's not going to hold him forever."

"And he's capable of anything," Bobby added.

"I mean what am I supposed to do?" Dean asked.

Bobby shook his head. "I don't know."

Dean exhaled sharply and walked towards the kitchen. Martha ran to catch up with him. "You're not giving up, are you?"

Dean looked at her. "Of course not, but I don't know what I'm gonna do now. I screwed up. I messed up the natural order when I let that little girl live. I lost the deal. It's only a matter of time before Death comes to rub it in my face."

"Dean…" Death called to him from the kitchen table. He sat with a box of onions rings and hot dogs in front of him. "Join me." He looked at Martha. "You too, Dr. Jones."

Martha squeaked softly. "Death knows my name."

"I know _everyone's_ name," Death reminded her. "Even your little friend in the blue box." He glanced between her and Dean. "Sit," he instructed and they both obeyed. "I brought you one." He slid a hot dog to Dean. "From a little stand in Los Angeles known for their bacon dogs."

Dean scoffed softly. "What is it with you and cheap food?"

"I could ask you the same thing." Death eyed Dean, who looked a bit unnerved to be under Death's scrutiny. "Thought I'd have a treat before I put the ring back on," he informed Dean as he returned his attention to his hot dog. "Heavier than it looks, isn't it? Sometimes, you just want the thing off. But you know that."

"I sucked at being you."

"If you could go back, would you simply kill the little girl? No fuss, no stomping your feet," Death questioned.

"Knowing what I know now?" Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"Hmm." Death wiped his mouth on a paper napkin and balled it up. "I'm surprised to hear that. Surprised and glad. I think you've learned something today."

"I think you knew that I wouldn't last a day," Dean challenged.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"It's fine. I lost," Dean conceded. "But at least have the balls to admit that it was rigged from the jump," he added defiantly.

"Dean…" Martha said his name softly as she eyed Death nervously.

Death stared at Dean. "Most people speak to me with more respect."

Dean cowered slightly under the weight of Death's glance. "I didn't mean—"

"It's been lovely, but we're done here." Death rose from his seat. "I have to go to go to hell to get your brother's soul."

"Really?" Martha hopped out of her chair. "You're going to help Sam?"

Dean stood up as well. "Why would you do that for me?"

"I _wouldn't_ do it for you," Death countered. "You and your brother keep coming back. You're an affront to the balance of the universe and you cause disruption on a global scale." He paused. "But you have use. Right now, you're digging at something and I want you to keep digging, Dean."

Dean exchanged glances with Martha but she seemed to be just as clueless about Death's meaning as he was. "So you're just gonna be cryptic or—"

"It's about the souls," Death informed the two of them. "You'll understand when you need to."


	14. Chapter 14

Death made good on his promise to return Sam's soul, but it was a bit touch and go after that.

Sam was unconscious for days. Both Martha and Castiel examined him and neither was certain if Sam would ever wake up again. And even if he did, Dean didn't know what to expect.

Cas and Crowley both had warned him that Sam's soul would be mangled and mutated. Even Death questioned if returning Sam's soul was the right thing to do, but Dean couldn't allow Sam to carry on as he had been. All Dean could do now was hope that the wall Death put up in Sam's mind to block out the memories of hell would last.

Eventually, Sam did wake up and things began to change.

Or rather they went back to normal.

In the following weeks, Sam had reverted back to the brother that Dean remembered. Dean's life was back to how it used to be. Each week was a new town and a new case. Dragons. Humanoid spider monsters. Vengeful spirits inhabiting mannequins.

They were definitely back in the saddle.

Dean sat at the desk in Bobby's study searching through newspaper clippings while Sam sat nearby thumbing through a beat up old tome.

Martha entered the room with her arms full of more books. She glanced around as she deposited the books on the desk. "Where's Bobby?"

Sam looked up from his book. "He went to town on a supply run."

"In this?" Martha balked as she looked out the window. It was storming like crazy outside.

"Yeah." Dean nodded. "The man's a hero." He emptied the last few drops of alcohol into his glass. "We're officially out of hunter's helper."

The thunder grew louder outside and lightning flashed near the window. The air seemed to become electric.

"It's getting worse out there," Martha commented.

"That wasn't the storm." Dean hopped out his chair and stared into the face of the angel Balthazar. The last time they saw him was when he gave part of the Staff of Moses to a boy hell bent on taking revenge against some dirty cops.

"Hello boys." Balthazar strolled into the study. "You've seen The Godfather, right?" he asked as he began gathering things and set them on Bobby's desk. "You know, the end, where Michael Corleone sends his men to kill his enemies in one big, bloody swoop?" He picked a box of salt and poured it into a large bowl. "Moe Greene gets it in the eye. Don Cuneo gets it in the revolving door." He paused. "I need blood of lamb." He disappeared and reappeared next to Bobby's refrigerator. "Beer. Cold pizza. Yes! Blood of lamb!"

Sam frowned. "Why are you talking about _The Godfather_?"

"Because we're in it right now," Balthazar explained as he emptied the jar of lamb's blood into the bowl on Bobby's desk. "With Raphael in the role of Michael Corleone."

Dean scoffed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Balthazar ignored Dean's question as he emptied out Bobby's desk drawer and sorted through them the contents. "Bone of a lesser saint." He smiled. "Your Mr. Singer does keep a _beautiful_ pantry."

"Raphael is after you?" Martha questioned.

"Raphael is after us all," Balthazar responded as he sprinkled bone fragments over the lamb's blood and salt mixture. "He's consolidated his strength and now he's on the move."

"But where's Cas?" Dean demanded.

"Cassie is deep, deep underground. So, good old Raffy put out a hit list on every last Samaritan who helped our dear Cas," he told them as he mixed the bowl's contents. "Including the three of you and more importantly, me." He dipped his fingers into the bowl as he walked over to the nearest window and began drawing a sigil with the blood.

"Why should we believe you?" Sam challenged.

"Oh, you don't have to," Balthazar countered. "You'll go where I throw you either way." Lighting flashed and electricity filled the air again. Balthazar glanced around precariously. "That's all the time we have, kids." He opened his jacket and checked his inner pocket for something, revealing a bloody wound in his side. "Where is it?"

Martha instinctively stepped forward and inspected his wound. "What happened?"

Balthazar glanced down. "Uncle Raffy sent one of his nastiest to handle me. I'm flattered, actually. And down a lung at the moment, but that's all right." He handed a key to Martha.

Martha looked at the key in her hand. "What am we supposed to do with this?"

"Run with it," Balthazar instructed before he was thrown across the room. Another angel appeared. He dusted himself off as he stood up and looked at the other angel. "Virgil," he addressed the other angel then turned towards the others. "I said, run!" He raised his hand and sent them flying through the window marked with a blood sigil.

Sam, Dean and Martha crashed through Bobby's window and landed on a mattress on a TV show set. The three of them scrambled to their feet feeling disoriented.

"Cut!" the director called out. "Jared, Jensen, Freema. That was just great. Outstanding!"

Dean peeked back through the window and saw a set that resembled Bobby's study. "What happened to the angels?"

Sam glanced at the various crew members roaming around the set. "Should we be killing anybody?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't think so."

"I don't want to alarm you boys, but I think I know what's going on," Martha told them.

Dean glanced back at her. "Well?"

Martha looked around. "I think Balthazar's send us to an alternate dimension."

* * *

Dean paced back and forth in what was apparently his trailer. "So we're in an alternate dimension where our lives are a TV show?"

"Pretty much." Martha nodded. "Apparently I'm Freema Agyeman, you're Jensen Ackles and Sam's Jared Padalecki."

Dean looked at Sam. "Wait. You're Polish now?"

"Why would anyone want to watch a show about _our_ lives?" Sam asked.

"Not a lot of people do according to the interviewer that cornered me back there," Martha responded. "Apparently that's why I'm here." She paused. "Well, why _Freema_ is here. Crossover with a show called _Doctor Who_ in order to boost the ratings and broaden your audience."

"_Doctor Who_?" Sam questioned.

"Long story." Dean waved off his confusion. He turned to Martha. "So we're a ratings ploy in this world?" he asked irritably.

"If it makes you feel better, Freema and Jensen have a much big following than she does with some bloke called David Tennant," she informed him. "But not as big of a following as Jensen and Misha."

"Misha?" Dean repeated. "Misha. Jensen. Freema. What's with the names here?"

Sam sat down at the table inside the trailer and pulled the laptop sitting on top of it close to him. "If we're going to get by in this world we need to learn about ourselves."

"You first, Padaleski."

"I'm pretty sure it's Padalecki," Sam commented as he started typing. "Looks like I'm from Texas. And before joining the cast of _Supernatural_, my biggest claim to fame was…a show called _Gilmore Girls_."

"_Gilmore Girls_?" Dean laughed. "Nice one," he teased.

"Oh yea?" Sam clicked a video link. "Guess who got their big start on a soap opera."

Dean cringed at the sight of Jensen's acting past. "I don't like this universe, Sammy." He turned away.

"What about Freema?" Martha asked, leaning in closer to Sam.

Sam typed her name into the browser. "'Freema Agyeman, most famous for playing the role of Dr. Martha Jones, has carved a following for herself in the Whovian fan base despite meeting resistance at the start of her tenure due to her being considered by many to be an inadequate replacement for fan favorite Rose Tyler, played by Billie Piper.'"

Martha let out a mirthless laugh. "Even in this universe I'm compared to Rose."

"Speaking of fan followings," Dean cut in. "Who is this Misha chick people want me with?"

Sam looked up from the laptop on the table. "According to Google, he's the actor that plays Castiel."

"The Twitter freak pretending to be Cas that we met on the back lot?" Dean stared at him incredulously. "I have a stupid name and soap opera past, my baby is just a prop car and now people want me to get together with _Cas_?" He shook his head. "We need to get the hell out of this place. Fast!"

* * *

"So what's the score?" Sam panted softly as the three of them crouched behind a set designed to look like motel room.

"Fake Cas is dead. Real Cas is back in our world," Dean commented.

"And Virgil has the key," Martha added.

Somehow Virgil had managed to cross over into the same dimension as them. More than likely he had done it because he wanted the key, which supposedly opened the door to the place where Balthazar had stored all the stolen Angelic Weapons of Heaven.

The good news was that Virgil's angel powers didn't work there, but without his mojo he had taken to other methods, namely a 12 gauge shotgun.

"The homeless guy in the alley said something important though," Sam reminded them. "Remember, he said that after Virgil killed Misha he prayed to Raphael and got a response."

Martha nodded. "He told him to return the place where he crossed over and Raphael would reach through the window and take him and the key home."

"Which means that if we have any hope of getting back to our world, then we need to get the key and get to the portal before Virgil does," Sam insisted.

* * *

Just as Sam managed to wrestle the key away from Virgil the blood sigil on the set window began to glow. "It's Raphael! Run!"

The three of them were thrust forward through the glass and hit the pavement outside of a motel that mirrored the set there was just on.

"You Winchesters have the strangest luck," Raphael commented. Unlike the last time they had seen him, he was using a female vessel.

"Nice meat suit," Dean quipped from the ground. "Dude looks like a lady."

"It'll suffice," Raphael countered as she clutched her fist, causing Sam to double over in pain and drop the key. "The key." She smiled as she picked it up from where Sam dropped it.

"The key," Balthazar repeated as he appeared suddenly. "That will open you a locker at the Albany bus station." He smirked. "I mean seriously, Raffy. Did you really think I'd entrust the real key to these two marmosets?" He scoffed and glanced at Martha. "Her…_maybe_. But definitely not those two."

"Give me the weapons," Raphael demanded.

"Sorry, darling, but they're gone."

"What?!" Raphael closed in on Balthazar. "You've made your last mistake."

"Step away from him, Raphael," Castiel's voice boomed around them and thunder clapped. "I have the weapons now. Their power is with me."

Raphael turned to face him. "Castiel."

"If you don't want to die tonight, back off," Castiel threatened.

Raphael disappeared, followed by Balthazar. Before the other knew it, Cas had transported them back to Bobby's house.

"Cas, what the hell was that?" Sam demanded.

"You used us a diversion?" Martha asked bitterly.

"It was Balthazar's plan," Castiel confessed. "But I would have done the same thing."

Dean scoffed. "Well that's not comforting."

Castiel exhaled sharply. "When will I be able to make you understand? If I lose against Raphael, we _all_ lose. Everything."

"We know the stakes, Cas," Dean retorted angrily. "That's about all you've told us!"

Castiel sighed. "I'm sorry about all this. I'll explain when I can," he insisted before disappearing.

Dean groaned loudly. "Fucking angels."

Martha sighed. "At least things are back to normal," she reasoned.

Dean scoffed. "Back to normal, where angels are dicks and they screw you every time."

"And leave you with more questions than answers," Sam added.

Dean picked up the empty bottle from the desk. "And Bobby _still_ hasn't returned with more booze."

"Okay. You're right, normal sucks," Martha admitted. "But the rain has cleared up." She gestured towards the window.

Sam shrugged. "So?"

"So grab your coats." She headed towards the door. "Drinks are on me."


	15. Chapter 15

"Something is coming, Martha. Or rather _someone_."

The Doctor's words played over and over in Martha's head for the last few months. For a while she thought he meant Sam, but now she was certain that he was talking about Eve, the Mother of All supernatural beings.

They hadn't come across Eve herself, but they could definitely feel her presence. She created a Khan Worm that infected a trucker in Ohio and caused him to kill his family. Worse than that, it infected Dean, Bobby and Samuel. After all was said and done, Gwen, Samuel and Bobby's good friend Rufus were all killed. Bobby took Rufus's death hard, but Martha tried to remind him that he was being controlled by the worm. It was Eve's fault that Rufus was dead, not his.

They'd find a way to make her pay and Sam had the perfect place to start.

"I told you it was here," Sam said to the others as he removed a floorboard in Samuel's office to reveal an underground room with shelves of books and walls of photos and maps. Dean, Bobby and Martha followed him down below. "Welcome to the Campbell Family library."

"Well…" Bobby switched on a lamp and grabbed a stack of books. "Don't just stand there. Pick a row and start reading."

The four of them settled down at the large table in the middle of the room and started their research. After a couple of hours Bobby found something of interest. "Any of you know anything about a phoenix?"

"River, Joaquin or the giant flaming bird?" Dean quipped.

Bobby gestured to the book he was reading. "It says here that the ashes of a phoenix can burn the mother."

"Great. Where do we get one?" Dean asked.

Bobby shrugged. "You got me. I thought they were a myth."

"Where's Dumbledore when you need him?" Martha joked.

Sam picked up another book from his stack. "Well let's see if we can find anything about a phoenix."

They continued their research until Dean made his way over to the table from one of the bookcases a little over an hour later. "Guys, check this out." He placed a leather bound book on the table and began to read. "'March 5, 1861. Sunrise, Wyoming. Gun killed a Phoenix today. Left a pile of smoldering ash.'"

"Gun? Whose gun?" Sam questioned.

"Colt's."

"Colt?" Sam paused. "As in _the_ Colt?"

Dean nodded as he showed the inside cover of the book. "Directly from the pages of Samuel Colt's journal." He smirked.

"Seriously?" Sam grinned. "Let me see." He reached for the book.

Dean snatched the journal away before Sam could touch it. "Get your own."

Martha peeked at the journal. "What does he say about the phoenix?"

Dean shrugged. "It just says 'Phoenix.' No details."

"Did he say where he tracked it?" Bobby demanded.

Dean flipped through the pages. "No."

Sam sighed. "All right, so I guess we got to find one of our own. Whatever it is."

"I know where we can find one." Dean beamed suddenly.

Sam stared at him. "Go on."

"March 5, 1861. Sunrise, Wyoming," Dean replied. "We hop back in time, join up with Samuel Colt, hunt the Phoenix and then we haul the ashes back home with us."

"Time travel?" Bobby scoffed. "_That's_ a reasonable plan?"

"Cas did zap us back before," Sam reminded Bobby.

"I wasn't thinking of calling Cas," Dean told Sam and Bobby as he shared a knowing glance with Martha.

"So how do you suppose we do it?" Bobby countered.

Martha smiled as she stood up and pulled her mobile from her pocket. "We know just the person for the job."

* * *

Dean stood in Bobby's study with a huge grin on his face. Sam and Bobby looked like their eyes were going to pop out of their heads when the TARDIS materialized. Martha had explained to them about the Doctor, but they still seemed to be in disbelief.

"His ship is a phone booth?" Sam questioned. "Like Rufus?"

Dean nudged his brother playfully. "That's what I said."

"It's a police box," Martha corrected. "But it's a form camouflage."

Bobby scoffed. "Who'd miss a great big blue box?"

"It makes more sense back home," Martha insisted. "Sort of."

"You're going to love this," Dean told Sam and Bobby excitedly. "It's bigger on the inside." He knocked on the TARDIS door.

The door to the TARDIS swung inward and a young man Dean had never seen before poked his head out. "I can't tell if we're in the right place or not, but people are staring at me," he commented warily.

Martha stared at the man with wide eyes. "Rory?"

Rory stepped out of the TARDIS. He looked at her curiously. "You seem familiar. Have we met?"

Martha smiled sheepishly. "Only in my dreams."

Dean felt instantly irritated, but before he could comment a leggy redhead walked out of the TARDIS. "Oi Centurion! Stop being so irresistible."

Rory turned towards her. "I wasn't trying to be."

"You never do." She leaned in and kissed him on the lips.

"Always with the kissing." The Doctor cringed as he exited the TARDIS. "And in front of strangers."

"Doctor, she knows my name." Rory gestured towards Martha.

"Of course she does. You were married for fifty years," The Doctor retorted matter-of-factly as he pulled Martha into a tight hug. "You had a lovely life together. Clinic in Chiswick. Four kids. Your daughter Sarah Jane was in love with me."

"What?!" Rory, Dean, Sam and Bobby exclaimed in unison.

The Doctor pulled away from Martha. "In a different timeline, of course." He paused. "I did mention that, didn't I?"

"No, Raggedy Man. You did not," Amy replied with amusement.

"Right…" The Doctor clapped his hands together. "Introductions. Dr. Martha Jones, my former companion."

"You married a doctor," Amy teased Rory playfully. "Well done you."

"This is Amy and Rory Pond," the Doctor continued.

"Williams," Rory corrected, earning a smile from Martha.

Dean ignored Martha's seeming infatuation with Rory and turned his attention to the Doctor. "Doctor…" Dean clapped him on the back. "It's good to see you again."

"Again…" The Doctor drew out the word and looked at Martha.

Martha looked the Doctor in the eye. "You've never met Dean before, have you?"

"Not yet, but I tend to meet people out of order."

Dean frowned. "But we met in Chicago. We talked about cars. The Impala and Bessie!"

"Bessie!" The Doctor beamed. "I _loved_ that car," he added wistfully. He looked at Dean a bit more warmly than he had before. "Dean, was it?" He shook his hand firmly.

"This is Dean's brother, Sam Winchester. And our friend Bobby Singer," Martha informed the Doctor.

Bobby looked the Doctor over. "_This_ is the guy that's going to help us?"

"Don't let the bowtie fool you." Amy smirked. "He's smarter than he looks."

The Doctor instinctively reached for his bowtie. "What's wrong with my bowtie?" he protested.

"Was he this attached to the bowties when you travelled with him?" Amy asked Martha.

"He had a different wardrobe back then," Martha replied.

"And a different face," The Doctor added casually.

Sam leaned in close to Dean. "Is he some kind of shifter?"

"Time Lord," The Doctor answered Sam. "From the planet Gallifrey."

"I never heard of a planet called Gallifrey," Bobby commented suspiciously.

The Doctor grew quiet suddenly. "Yes…well…that's because it no longer exists…Gallifrey." He tweaked his bowtie. "I'm the last of my kind."

"And so you travel though time and space in _that_?" Sam questioned as he gestured towards the big blue box.

The Doctor nodded as he stroked the outside of the box. "The TARDIS. Time and relative dimension in space."

"It's freaking _awesome_," Dean assured Sam and Bobby enthusiastically.

The Doctor smiled brightly. "She is awesome, isn't she?" He pushed the doors to the TARDIS open and led the group inside.

Dean watched Sam and Bobby eagerly as they stepped inside the police box.

"Son of a bitch," Bobby said breathlessly as he took it all in.

The Doctor frowned. "Language!"

"It's real." Sam marveled as he walked around the console room. "It's _really_ real."

"And it's just what we need," Dean commented as he moved towards the TARDIS controls. "March 5, 1861. Sunrise, Wyoming," he informed the Doctor.

The Doctor began flipping switches and turning knobs. "Sunrise, Wyoming. March 5, 1861."

"Whoa!" Bobby looked startled. "What's he doing?"

The Doctor smiled as he looked at Sam and Bobby. "Geronimo!"


	16. Chapter 16

*****AUTHOR'S NOTE*** Hello again my lovelies! It's been awhile and for that I apologize. Sometimes life gets complicated and things fall by the wayside. Alas, my schedule has cleared up and I have time to write again. So consider this the first of many updates! ENJOY!**

Martha sat on the jump seat in the TARDIS control room leafing through a book she and Bobby had discovered in the TARDIS library. The two of them hung back to continue their research while Sam, Dean, The Doctor, Amy and Rory ventured out into Sunrise to locate Samuel Colt and the Phoenix.

She glanced up when she heard the TARDIS door open. The group of them milling inside dressed in their western wear. The Doctor was particularly fond of his new hat. He and Dean had spent a considerable amount of time arguing about wardrobe. Dean, being an avid fan of westerns, had his idea of what they should wear, but The Doctor dismissed his selections as historically inaccurate. He then proceeded to informed Dean of his firsthand knowledge of the subject by revealing that not only was his dentist the famous Doc Holliday, but that he was present at the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral.

"I don't understand why we had to leave the Colt behind," Sam protested as the five of him rejoined Martha and Bobby.

"Because if you never left if behind, the Colt would never have made it into Daniel Elkins' possession and you never would have found it to begin with," The Doctor explained.

"That and he doesn't want a gun in his TARDIS," Amy added with a smirk.

"Do you blame me?" The Doctor turned to Amy with his hands on his hips. "Do I need to remind you what happened the last time there was a gun on board?"

"What happened?" Dean questioned.

"Our daughter shot a hole in the time rotor," Amy replied coolly.

"We crashed in Nazi Germany!" The Doctor shrieked. "And I nearly died!"

"You were fine." Amy waved off the Doctor's dramatics with a roll of her eyes.

"I punched Hitler," Rory added casually, but Martha can tell that he was proud of that accomplishment.

Sam looked at Dean. "And I thought _our_ lives were strange."

Dean nodded. "Certainly puts things into perspective."

"I take it you found the Phoenix?" Martha commented as she closed her book.

Dean nodded and held up a bottle containing dark grey ashes. "We dusted that bitch," he told her with a smile.

"Language," The Doctor groaned softly as he laid his head against the TARDIS console. Martha got the sense that he felt as if he was losing control of his own ship.

Dean looked at the Doctor. "Sorry." He offered him an apologetic smile which seemed to lift the Time Lord's spirits.

"We need to get back," Sam announced suddenly. "Put an end to this Eve thing."

The Doctor's smile faded. "Do you have to go? We were all just getting acquainted."

"We'll see each other again," Dean assured the Doctor. He seemed to take pleasure in knowing something the Doctor didn't.

"Looks like you have competition for the Doctor's affection," Rory teased Amy.

"Well they are cute together," Amy commented as she leaned against the railing and watched the Doctor show Dean how to pilot the TARDIS.

"You should see Dean with his angel friend, Castiel," Martha told Amy. "I feel like the third wheel in my own relationship sometimes," she joked as the redhead put an arm around her shoulder.

"Believe me, you get used to it," Rory quipped.

The Doctor landed the TARDIS in Bobby's study and escorted Martha, Dean, Sam and Bobby outside.

"I'll admit it, Doc. You've got a pretty decent setup there," Bobby told the Doctor with a smile.

"You're welcome to travel with me anytime, Bobby."

"Maybe if you get rid of that no gun rule," Bobby muttered under his breath as he walked away to join Sam and Dean near his desk.

"Where are you off to now?" Martha asked the Doctor.

"I promised to take Amy and Rory back home for a bit, but I think I might be able to talk them into another Western adventure," he responded with a twinkle in his eyes.

Martha laughed. "Have fun."

"I always do," The Doctor assured Martha with a huge grin. "You, on the other hand, Dr. Jones…you need to stay safe."

Martha glanced over her shoulder at Dean, Sam and Bobby. "I'm fine as long as I have my boys."

* * *

Taking Eve down was easy once they had the Phoenix ashes. They finally tracked her down to a diner in Grant's Pass, Oregon.

Dean was convinced that she was after them, but Eve told them that she wanted Crowley as revenge for him torturing her children. Castiel had smote him a few months ago after he double backed on his promise to help with Sam's soul, but for some reason Eve was certain that he was still alive.

They knew Crowley was after the location of purgatory. He mentioned something about expanding the realm of hell, but Eve told them the souls were what he was really after. Her words reminded him of what Death had said to him and Martha before. As Eve explained it, each soul was like a power source and with all the souls in purgatory, there was no telling how powerful Crowley could be.

Dean walked into Bobby's kitchen and found Sam and Bobby seated at the table. He looked around the room. "Where's Martha?"

"Food run," Bobby replied.

"Oh."

"She's been gone for a while. I'm sure she'll be back any minute," Sam added.

"Yea." Dean nodded and joined them at the table. Sam and Bobby exchanged glances and Dean looked back and forth between the two of them. "Why do I feel like I've interrupted something here?"

"I don't know." Sam shrugged. "We were just talking."

"About what?" Dean pressed.

"Just thinking about this whole Crowley thing," Sam replied.

"Cas said he'd look into it."

"But Cas smote him," Sam reminded Dean. "How did Crowley even survive that?"

"He's a crafty son of a bitch," Dean retorted with a shrugged.

"Yea, but Cas never misses," Bobby commented. "Unless…" He exchanged glances with Sam again.

"Unless what?" Dean asked irritably.

"Until he meant to do it," Bobby finished.

"This is Cas we're talking about," Dean insisted.

"The same Cas that's been going on and on about trying to beat Raphael."

"Your point?"

"My point is that we know Crowley's after the souls in purgatory, but what if he's not after them for himself," Bobby suggested.

"You think Cas, an angel, is working with the King of _Hell_?"

Bobby shrugged. "Lucifer is proof that even angels can go bad."

"Come on, Bobby." Dean shook his head. "Cas is our friend. Tell him, Sam." He looked to his brother for support, but Sam just stared down at his hands. Dean scoffed. "Unbelievable." He rose from the table and left the house.

Dean exhaled sharply and pulled out his cell phone once he was outside. He dialed Martha's number and waited for her to answer.

"Dean?"

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Martha's voice. "Where are you?"

"Leaving the diner," Martha informed him as she carried a bag of food to Bobby's car. "They were out of pie, but I swung the market while I waited for our order. I thought I might try baking one."

Dean smirked. "You bake too?"

"I'm a woman of many talents," Martha told him with a laugh.

"Apparently."

"Why are you calling?" Martha asked as she unlocked the car and dropped the bag inside. "Is something wrong?"

Dean considered filling her in on his conversation with Sam and Bobby, but thought better of it. "No," he lied. "I just wanted to hear your voice."

Martha laughed softly. "Don't go getting soft on me, Winchester."

Dean smiled to himself. "What can I say? You have that effect on me."

"I'll see you in a second, yea?"

"I love you," Dean added quickly as he prepared to hang up. "Come on." He groaned playfully when she didn't respond. He knew she hadn't hung up because he could hear street noise on the other side of the call. "I know I don't say it to you enough, but don't leave me hanging." He paused and waited for her to answer. When she didn't, his body tensed. "Martha? Come on, baby. Stop playing around. Martha? Martha!"

"Hello Dean," Crowley's voice sang through the phone. "It's been a while. Fancy a chat?"

"Crowley," Dean replied darkly. "Let her go now. Or I swear—"

"What?" Crowley challenged. "You'll rip me a plethora of new orifices?" He laughed. "Oh Dean, you're so adorable when you're angry."

"I'm going to kill you," Dean threatened.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," Crowley dismissed him with a laugh. "Now let me tell you how this is really going to go. Your chocolate has been in my peanut butter for _far_ too long," informed him angrily. "I have your lady friend and I'll keep her until I'm satisfied that you've backed the hell off!"

Dean took a deep breath. "Last chance to let her go easy."

"You know me, love, I'm not the easy type," Crowley retorted. "But don't worry. I won't hurt her as long of you and the moose stand down. Got it? Kisses." He disconnected the call.

Dean gritted his teeth then screamed loudly as he punched the wall with his free hand.

"Dean?" Sam came rushing outside at the sound of the commotion. He was quickly followed by Bobby.

Bobby looked at Dean's bloody knuckles. "What's the story?"

Dean closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair roughly. "That son of a bitch Crowley!"

Sam searched his face for answer. "What happened?"

"Martha!" Dean cried painfully as he opened his eyes. "I was on the phone with her and…" He drew in a shaky breath. "He grabbed her, Sammy."

"What?" Bobby stared at him. "Why?"

"He wants us to stay out of his way," Dean informed him.

"So what are we going to do?" Sam asked.

"I'll tell you what I'm _not_ going to do." Dean looked at his brother. "Sit on my thumbs." He shoved his phone into his pocket and pulled out the keys to the Impala. "I'm going after that son of a bitch and I'm getting Martha back."


	17. Chapter 17

Martha's eyes darted wildly around the filthy old room she was being held captive in. She assessed the area for possible exits as she worked on loosening her bonds. Her first two escape attempts had proven to be futile, but she was hoping that the third time would be a charm.

"Trying to escape again, Dr. Jones?" Crowley asked from behind her.

Martha let out a mirthless laugh as she halted her escape attempt. "It was the plan, yea."

"You exorcized my men. Twice." Crowley walked around so that they were facing each other. "And you even did it without a book," he replied with amusement.

"I've made a career of being able to memorize Latin phrases."

"That puts you miles ahead of Jolly Green and Sprout."

"They have their moments."

"In case you're wondering, and I'm sure you are, that little trick of yours won't work on me, sweetheart."

Martha shrugged. "Can't fault a girl for trying."

Crowley smirked. "You obviously don't know me very well."

"You're right. I don't know you, but I know Dean. And he _will_ come for me," Martha replied defiantly.

"Oh I'm counting on it." Crowley moved closer to her. "That's why I want you to give him a little message from me."

* * *

Dean and Sam went their separate ways once they got inside the building. Armed with Ruby's knife, Dean took out anyone that crossed his path. He didn't have the time or the patience for Crowley's minions and their games. The only thing that mattered to him right now was making sure that Martha was safe.

At the end of a dark corridor, he came across two burly demons guarding a door. He took the first one down with no problem, but the other put up a fight. Unfortunately for him, Dean was running on rage and adrenaline. After a short scuffle, Dean plunged the knife in the demon's chest and kicked him through the door for good measure. The burly man flew backwards through the wooden door, over the landing beyond its frame and down to the cement floor below.

Dean stepped over the threshold and quickly scanned the room. At the bottom of the stairs, there was another demon. He was smaller than the other two and Dean quickly overpowered him. With all of the distractions out of the way, Dean focused on his main priority.

In the corner of the room, Martha lay in a heap on the group. Dean quickly rushed to her side. "Martha," he said her name softly as he brushed her hair away from her face.

Martha moaned softly. "Dean?" She blinked a few times as if to convince herself that what she was seeing was real. With Dean's help, she slowly rose to her feet. "Crowley."

"I know."

"But how did you find me?" Martha asked weakly. "Did Castiel help you?"

Dean let out a quick breath as his thoughts briefly went to the conversation he had earlier with Sam and Bobby. "He wouldn't answer my calls. So I summoned Balthazar."

Martha let out a small sigh of relief and Dean caressed her cheek. When his thumb grazed her bottom lip she winced. Dean placed his hand under her chin, lifting it slightly so that he could get a better look. Her lip was split and bleeding as if someone had punched her.

"Did Crowley do this?" Dean's jaw clenched tightly. "Did that son of a bitch hit you?"

Martha shook her head. "He came in and made some threats, but he disappeared. Then some other demon came in. I tried to get away and he…" she trailed off.

"Which one was it?" Dean asked darkly.

"It doesn't matter."

Dean closed his eyes as he struggled to keep his emotion in check. "Martha—"

"Crowley," Martha injected softly as she placed her hands on his shoulders. "He said he had a message for you."

Dean opened his eyes. "A message?"

Martha nodded. "He said, 'I told you I'm not the easy type.'"

"What?" Dean searched her face in confusion.

Martha laughed softly. "It means…" Her eyed flashed black. "Did you _really_ think it was going to be that easy?"

Dean's breath caught in his throat.

"You are one dumb son of bitch." Martha laughed harder. "I mean I know you're a dropout and all, but use that pretty little head of yours for a second, Dean." She tapped him on the forehead and he swatted her hand away. "I wasn't even bound."

"I'm gonna kill you!" Dean roared.

"But what about poor, sweet little Martha?" the demon inside her taunted him. "She tries _so_ hard to be tougher than she really is. Oh but you should have heard the way she screamed when I burned that tattoo off her soft supple flesh." She drew in a slow breath through her teeth as she ran her hand over Martha's left hip where her tattoo has been. "I love a screamer me."

"Shut up!"

"There's more than meets the eye to this one." Martha smirked. "I can see her thoughts. Her memories. Her _fantasies_." The demon laughed. "Wanna know what she thinks about you? Better yet. How about I tell you want she thinks about your brother," she suggested cruelly. "If it wasn't for you, she might give him a go. He's tall and smart. Reminds her on someone she used to know. The Doctor." She paused. "Not the one you met. No, the one before. You wouldn't believe all the dirty little things she would have done to him," the demon added wickedly. "He broke her heart and she still loves him more than you. Hell, she loves that Rory guy more than she loves you and she's only met him once."

Dean clutched the handle to the knife in his hand. "You're lying."

"Whatever gets you through the night."

"Martha, if you hear me in there, don't be scared." Dean told her. "I'm gonna save you."

"Save her?" Martha scoffed softly. "How are you going to do that when you can't even save yourself. It's always 'Castiel this' and 'Castiel that,'" the demon mocked. "We all know you wanna be touched by an angel, so you might as well just come out the closet already, princess."

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…"

Martha flinched as Dean began to recite the exorcism ritual. "Stop it."

"Omnis satanica potestas," Dean continued. "Omnis incursio infernalis adversarii."

Martha punched Dean hard across the jaw, stunning him and causing him to stumble backwards. "Fight back!" She demanded. "Fight me like a real man!" She threw him into the wall behind them.

Dean grunted as his back slammed into the wall. His grip on the knife loosened and he felt it slip out of his fingers. "Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica."

"Don't test me!" Martha growled through the pain as she wrapped her fingers around Dean's throat.

Dean gasped for air. "Ergo, draco maledicte."

Martha reached for the knife that Dean dropped and gripped tightly. "One more word and I will slice this bitch open and watch her bleed all over the floor. Then she'll be just another dead meat suit."

"Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire."

Martha raised the knife high and plunged it deep into her side and jerked it out fast. Her blood covered the blade and trickled slowly from the grapping wound in her abdomen. "Now what were you saying?" she challenged with a smirk.

"Te rogamus…" Dean's voice cracked. He exhaled slowly as he resolved himself silently. "Audi nos." The demon howled as a cloud of black smoke erupted out Martha's mouth and swirled its way out of the room.

Martha let out a shaky breath. "I knew you'd save me." She smiled weakly before her eyes rolled back into her head and she hit the ground.

"No, no, no." Dean rushed to her side. "Stay with me, Martha." He ripped the sleeve of the flannel shirt she wore over her tank top and pressed the fabric against the wound. "SAMMY!" he yelled desperately as he tried to balance her in his arms while applying pressure to her injury. "Come on. We're going to get you some help." He looked around for Sam as he carried Martha up the stairs. "SAMMY!" His eyes glanced down at Martha again. "Martha, don't close your eyes. Just stay with me, baby. Stay with me."


	18. Chapter 18

Dean kept vigil at Martha's bed side. Every so often Sam and Bobby would come by the hospital telling him that he needed to eat or sleep, but he couldn't do either. Not until he was sure that Martha would wake up. Until then, he only left her side to use the bathroom or to get another cup of coffee to keep himself awake.

When his eyelids began to feel heavy, he made his way out of her room for another coffee break. He stood next to the coffee machine with Martha's cellphone in his hand. Bobby found it when he went looking for his car and he gave it to Dean.

The screen revealed that Martha had missed calls from her sister Tish. The two of them spoke every day. Even when Martha was in the middle of a mission, she always found time for her big sister. They were just that close. They reminded him of his relationship with Sam. If something happened to Sam, he'd want to know.

He began to dial Tish's number, but stopped himself. Each time he tried the results were the same. He just couldn't bring himself to tell Martha's family what happened. Maybe it was because he was convinced that Martha would be fine and then worrying them would have been unnecessary. Or perhaps he was afraid that she'd die and her family would rightfully hold him accountable.

Dean pushed those thoughts aside as he drained his coffee cup. He needed to get back to Martha. When he returned to Martha's room, a blonde in a lab coat was standing over her. "Who are you?"

The blonde turned to face Dean with Martha's chart in her hands. "I would have thought that would be obvious."

Dean eyed her suspiciously and took up his post next to Martha's side. "Been a lot of people in and out of here. It's hard to be sure who's who sometimes."

"I'm not her _real_ doctor if that's what you mean," the blonde responded casually as she continued to read over Martha's chart.

Dean's body tensed. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded calmly as he reached for the knife in his pocket.

"Don't get me wrong." The blonde looked up at Dean. "I _am_ a doctor," she assured him. "I'm just not _her_ doctor."

Dean relaxed slightly, but kept his hand on his knife. "Then why are you here?"

"I'm just checking in on her for a friend. He'd come himself, but his hands are a bit full at the moment." She smiled at Dean. "Doctor's work is never done."

"I guess." Dean released his knife and sat down next to Martha's bed.

"Are you family?"

"Yes."

"Visitor's log mentioned that she was married. Funny…" She picked up Martha's left hand. "She isn't wearing a ring."

Dean weighed his options before speaking. "We're not married, but I am her boyfriend."

"I gathered," the blonde replied as she gently returned Martha's hand to its previous position.

"I needed to stay by her side," Dean explained. "Her family all the way back in England and…I just don't want her to wake up alone."

"Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

Dean gave her a quick nod and turned his attention back to Martha. "What do her charts say?"

"She'll live."

Dean glanced at her. "Are you sure?"

"Oh I'm positive." She smiled brightly. "This one has a _lot_ of living left to do."

Dean let out a sigh of relief. "Good."

The blonde placed Martha's chart at the end of the bed and watched Dean for a moment. "You seem mighty sad for a man who's just learned that his girlfriend will be okay."

"But what if she isn't," Dean countered. "What if she _isn't_ going to be okay?"

The blonde's expression turned serious. "I know all the tubes and machines must look scary, but I promise you she'll be fine. Her wound was deep, but none of the major organs were damaged."

"I don't mean physically," Dean clarified

The blonde sat next to him. "How do you mean?"

"I put her here," Dean admitted. "Not directly, but it's my fault. My life is dangerous. _I'm_ dangerous."

The blonde looked him over. "You don't look that dangerous to me."

"I've done bad things."

She shrugged. "Haven't we all?"

"I've killed people," Dean added softly.

"So have I."

"It's this job. You go into it trying to do good. Just…" Dean exhaled sharply. "Just trying to save lives and make the world a better place. And you forget about the costs. You forget about the people that have to pay the price." He paused. "Or maybe you just learn to lie to yourself," he said as he looked at Martha. "Convince yourself that you can have it all…the job and the family."

"Why couldn't you?"

"Because this happens." Dean gestured to Martha. "People use your love against you."

"Love is supposed to make you stronger, not weaker," she countered. Dean gave a noncommittal shrug in response. "Do you think your life would be better without her?"

"No," Dean answered truthfully. "But maybe she'd be better off without me."

"Or it could be worse."

"She'd probably have an apple pie life. End up chief of staff in some big fancy hospital or something like that. Settled down with a couple of kids."

"What's stopping her from having all that with you?" the blonde asked.

"I can't offer her a normal life." Dean scoffed softly. "I can't even promise to keep her safe."

"Maybe that isn't what she's after."

"It's what she _deserves_."

"Obviously I don't know Martha as well as you, but she seems like the type of woman that knows what she wants."

"She is." Dean nodded. "She's smart and strong…confident."

"Then why are you trying to make decisions for her?"

Dean sighed softly. "I just want to keep her safe."

"You could rewrite time and make it so you never met her, but she still could be in danger of a different sort," the blonde reasoned.

Dean knew she was right, but he still felt guilty about what Crowley did to Martha. "I just don't be…" he voice cracked. "I don't want to be reason she dies."

"Death is coming for us all one way or another, but you can still give her something to live for," she told him with a smile as she stood up.

Dean watched her stand. "Are you leaving?"

"I think my work is done here." The blonde's curly hair bounced as she nodded. "Like I said I was doing a favor for a friend." She paused. "I suppose you could say I'm repaying a debt as well."

"A debt?"

"Yes. Well…" She laughed softly. "My parents went through a rough patch once and a wise doctor put them back on the right path." She smiled wistfully. "She's a clever one."

Dean stared at her. "So you're what? Paying it forward or something?"

She laughed again. "Or something."

"Thanks…umm…" Dean frowned. "I don't think I caught your name."

"Dr. Song," the blonde replied as she headed for the door. "But you can call me River."


	19. Chapter 19

Martha winced as her eyes fluttered open and were hit by the bright florescent lighting that hung above her. She allowed her eyes to focus and adjust to the brightness before moving.

"Easy does it, Doc."

"Bobby…" Martha turned her head towards the voice. He was stilling next to her bed with a newspaper on his lap. She sat up gingerly and reached for him. Bobby stood up when she reached for him and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "You're okay."

"Don't sound so surprised," Bobby replied gruffly.

Martha pulled back slowly. "Where's Dean?"

"I sent him home," Bobby informed her. "Told him if he didn't get some sleep, he'd end up in a bed right here next to yours."

Martha looked around. "And Sam?"

Bobby exhaled through his nose. "He's alive, but I can't say that he's well."

"Did Crowley…?"

Bobby shook his head. "Coward turned tail and ran."

"Ran?" Martha frowned. "From what?"

"Cas," Bobby explained. "He popped the top on purgatory and went on a bender. Took out Raphael and declared himself the new God."

"As in…_God_?"

"Afraid so." Bobby sighed. "And so far he's been a vengeful one." He lifted the newspaper to show Martha.

Martha took the paper and scanned the headlines. Cas had taken out about 200 religious leaders across the country. "So much for subtlety."

"He's definitely made his point."

Martha folded the newspaper and handed it back to Bobby. "Where are my clothes?" she asked as she pulled the cannula from her nose.

Bobby watched uneasily as she picked at the IV in her arm. "Should you be doing that?"

"Just detaching it from the fluid," Martha replied casually as she disconnected the line of tubing from the catheter in her arm. "Can't sneak out of here with this dragging behind me."

"Or…you could just check out like, I dunno, a _sane_ person," Bobby suggested.

Martha laughed softly. "I left sanity behind a long time ago."

* * *

Dean stood in the salvage yard with the hood to the Impala propped up. He leaned over the engine with a wench in hand as he attempted to restore his baby to her original glory.

"She looks a bit worse for the wear." Dean froze at the sound of Martha's voice and straightened up slowly. "Though I suppose I'm not in the position to throw stones," she added with a laugh.

Dean turned to face her. She was wearing Bobby's baseball cap and one of his flannel shirts. "Nice get up."

Martha laughed softly and removed her cap. "I was trying to be incognito."

"Martha, why did you sneak out of the hospital?" he asked with an exasperated sigh.

Martha shrugged with a smile. "People always say doctors make rubbish patients."

"Apparently."

"If it makes you feel any better, Bobby and I nicked a couple of medical supplies before we left."

Dean hesitated when Martha walked toward him before pulling her into his arms. He knew she probably should have stayed in the hospital, but he was happy to have her close to him again.

"Bobby told me about Cas." Martha pulled back, but remained in his arms. "What are we going to do?"

"Do?" Dean scoffed. "There's nothing we _can_ do."

"Cas is our friend," Martha reminded him. "He's done bad things, but we all have. We can bring him back. You can bring back."

"He's not our Cas anymore," Dean countered. "He's God now and he's pissed."

"So we just do…nothing?"

"Last time I checked, when God gets vengeful you move the hell out of the way."

Martha shook her head. "You don't believe that."

"Don't I?" he asked bitterly.

"No, because that's not the man you are. You don't just quit because things get hard and you damn sure give up on family," Martha retorted fiercely. "That's what we are, Dean. You, me, Sam, Bobby, Cas…we're a family. And we will tear this world apart just to save one another, because that's what families do."

"I know," Dean conceded. "I just…" He exhaled sharply. "We never catch a break and I mean _never_. It's just hit after hit after hit and we just keep getting back up only to get knocked right back down again."

"But we get up." Martha cupped his face. "In our darkest hour, even when the whole bloody world is against us, we still get up because the sun will come out."

Dean frowned. "Do you just quote a song from _Annie_?"

"Did you just _recognize_ a song from Annie?" Martha asked with a smirk.

"I must have heard it from Sam."

"Sure." Martha laughed. "So what do we do now?"

Dean sighed. "Well I still don't think we can do anything to stop Cas, but…" He paused thoughtfully. "I might have an idea about someone who could."

* * *

Martha never considered herself to be a violent person, but it took a lot of restraint on her part not to knock seven bells out Crowley when Dean summoned him. Dean wanted to bind Death and Crowley was the only one who knew the spell that they needed. Thankfully, the exchange was short. Crowley was just as frightened of Castiel as they were and he didn't want to get caught plotting against the new God.

Dean's plan to bind himself to Death didn't exactly go as envisioned. Death wasn't keen about being bound to a human and forced to do his bidding. Cas wasn't pleased to learn that his once favorite pets wanted to use Death to kill him. Martha was sure that he would have smote them right there on the spot, but instead he broke the bond between Dean and Death and disappeared.

The next few hours went by uneasily. Cas was still at large and taking vengeance on anyone he considered to be a non-believer, but that wasn't their only problem. Death told them that Cas had taken in more than he realized when he absorbed the souls in purgatory. There were creatures older than both humans and angels inside of him. Something Death referred to as Leviathans that even God didn't want set loose.

Right now, Castiel's vessel was the only thing keeping them from being unleashed on the world and for the look of his tattered and torn body, his grip on them wasn't as tight as he wanted to believe. The only hope they had for salvation was to convince Cas to return the souls to purgatory and lock the Leviathans away forever.

Dean sat in front of his laptop nursing a bottle of whiskey. He was even more despondent than before, but Martha wasn't ready to give up. She walked outside and saw Sam standing in the middle of the salvage yard. "Sam?" she approached him slowly. "Are you alright?"

"Yea. I was just praying." Sam lowered his gazed to her. "I just wanted Cas to know that we still believe in him and we could still help him, if he wanted."

"Did it work?"

Sam shrugged. "Hard to say." He began to walk towards the house with Martha. "How's Dean?"

"Well he's drinking and watching Asian cartoon porn," Martha replied. "So I think I can safely say he's been better."

"It's not like him to give up."

"No," Martha agreed. "But with all he's been through, the thought is tempting." She stopped walking. "He's worried about you, Sam. Why didn't you tell him about the hallucinations?"

Sam paused and exhaled. "He had enough going on between Cas and what Crowley did to you. How could I tell that when Cas broken the wall in my head it let Lucifer and all the memories of hell in?"

"He could have handled it."

"Martha, I know Dean's my big brother, but that doesn't mean he's beyond needing protection," Sam told her calmly. "Even if I told Dean myself, there's nothing he could do to fix me."

"Maybe, but I have a big sister and even though I can take care of myself, sometimes she needs to know that I trust her enough to catch me when I fall."

"I do trust him."

"Make sure he knows that," Martha insisted as she walked ahead of him towards the house. As they got closer to the front door, she noticed someone standing in the doorway.

"Sam…" Castiel called out weakly as he gripped the doorframe for support. Martha and Sam rushed to his side. He was covered in blood and his wounds seemed to be getting worse. "I heard your call," he told them once Sam came to his side and held him steady. "I need your help."


	20. Chapter 20

Dean shielded his eyes as the door to purgatory opened and the souls spilled out of Castiel in a bright light. Once the door closed, Cas stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. Dean rushed to his side, followed quickly by Bobby and Martha. "Cas?"

Martha began checking his vital signs. "He's cold."

"Is he breathing?" Dean asked.

Martha shook her head. "No."

"Maybe angels don't need to breath," Dean suggested with false optimism.

Bobby sighed heavily. "I think he's gone."

Dean closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. "Damn it, Cas." He stood up. "You should have listened to me, you dumb son of a bitch." He opened his eyes and saw Martha still knelt beside Castiel.

"What do we do now?" Martha asked softly. "Do we bury him or…or burn him?" She looked up at Dean for answers. "What do you do when an angel dies?"

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. Before he could think of an answer, Castiel drew in a sharp breath and opened his eyes. "Cas?"

"His wounds are healed," Martha pointed out as she stood up. "Is he back to normal?"

"Of course he is," Dean insisted as he and Bobby helped the disoriented angel to his feet.

Castiel exhaled deeply once he was steady on his feet. "That was…unpleasant."

Martha nodded. "In my experience, nearly dying can be."

"Thank you." Castiel looked from face to face. "All of you." He lowered his head slightly. "I'm ashamed. I'll find some way to redeem myself to you," he told Dean.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Dean insisted. "Let's find Sam and get out of here." Now that Cas was back to normal, he wanted to know why Sam never returned from gathering the blood for the ritual.

The four of them moved towards the exit, but Castiel suddenly hung back. "You need to run now!" he announced frantically. "I can't hold them back! They're so strong."

Bobby stared at him. "What the hell?"

Castiel doubled over and began tremble. "They must have held on," he informed them in a strained voiced.

"You can't hold what back?" Martha asked hesitantly.

"LEVIATHAN!" Castiel shrieked. "I can't fight them. You have to run!"

Dean watched in horror as Cas struggled to maintain control of his body. "Martha," he grabbed her arm and broke her from her trance. "Go. Go find Sam. GO!"

Martha nodded purposefully as she forced herself to look away from Castiel. "Bobby, I might need your help if he's unconscious." Bobby, too seemed to be transfixed by Castiel's struggle, but he followed Martha to the exit.

"Too late," Castiel told them in a sing song voice. Martha and Bobby paused in the doorway.

"Cas?" Dean questioned.

"Cas is gone," Castiel's vessel smiled wickedly. "We run the show now."

* * *

Castiel was gone.

The Leviathans took over his vessel and dispersed themselves into the water supply. The only thing left of him was the trench coat they found floating on the surface of the reservoir, which Dean folded and placed in the Impala's boot.

Bobby's house was gone.

It was torched by a Leviathan named Edgar. Using the water supply to their advantage, the Leviathans began possessing different people and established a base at Sioux Falls General Hospital to maintain their food supply. They were discrete, but they were also seemingly impossible to gank. Edgar managed to survive being crush under a car and Bobby shot another one with silver buckshot to no avail.

Sam was gone.

When they took a job in Montana, Sam came across a kitsune named Amy that once saved his life back in 1999. Amy had sworn off killing, but had to resort to murder for her son, who became sick from eating the dead flesh that Amy had learned to live off of. Sam let Amy go, but Dean went behind his back and killed her. The only reason anyone else knew the truth was because the Leviathans had been keeping taps on their every move and one posing as Dean revealed everything to Sam. Feeling betrayed by Deans lies and apparent lack of faith in his abilities, Sam took off to hunt alone.

Martha and Dean were alone on the road again, but she was afraid she was losing him as well. The rift between Sam and him was taking a toll on Dean. He was having enough trouble coping with what happened to Cas and Sam's hallucinations of Lucifer, but having his brother walk out on him had hit Dean hard.

It had been just a little over a week since Sam had parted ways with them and Dean was more closed off than ever. He tried to cover like nothing was wrong, but he had become distant in subtle ways and he drank more than Martha had ever seen him drink before.

Martha stared at the ceiling of their motel room. They had just finished a case in Raleigh, North Carolina the night before and had plans to move to the next town that morning.

"Rise and shine, Doc," Dean called to her from the foot of the bed as he tied his shoes. "I figured we could grab a burger before we hit the road."

Martha exhaled sharply as she sat up. "I honestly don't know how you do it," she told him as she slowly climbed out of bed.

Dean stood up and patted his stomach. "High metabolism."

Martha rolled her eyes as his cheekiness. "You know bloody well that I'm not the burgers."

Dean clenched his jaw and drew in a breath through his teeth. "How many times do we have to have this conversation?"

Martha folded her arms across her chest as she walked over to him. "Until I understand what the bloody hell you were thinking when you killed Amy."

"I did what needed to be done," Dean answered crossly.

"Amy killed people, I get that," Martha replied calmly. "But what I don't get is how you could go behind Sam's back like that. I mean I've come to expect that you'll do stuff behind my back to protect me, but somehow I thought it would be different for Sam."

Dean frowned. "When have I done something behind your back?"

Martha let out a mirthless laugh. "Are you forgetting that time you tried to bugger off and make a deal with Death?"

"I left a letter."

"Never say in writing what you should say in person."

Dean exhaled. "What do you want me to say, Martha?" Dean demanded. "Huh? That I was thinking that ever since Sam has been flying with Satan as his copilot that his judgment has been a little shaky?"

"If that's what you're feeling, then that's _exactly_ what I want you to say."

"Are you my therapist now? You gonna force me to talk about my feelings?"

"You made a promise, remember?" Martha replied. "We said that we're a team, Dean. You can't go deciding things on your own anymore because that's not what teams do. And Sam is part of that team too. Hell, he's a bloody founding member."

Dean closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Martha had noticed he did that whenever he was about to appease her. She kissed him before he could say another word.

"Just don't do it again," Martha requested as she moved to get dressed.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at her. "Am I off the hook now?"

Martha shrugged. "That's up to Sam."


	21. Chapter 21

Martha felt at ease now that the boys were on speaking terms again. As luck would have it, their reconciliation timed perfectly with the boys' sacred annual Vegas pilgrimage. Martha had always wondered what Las Vegas was like. Now she finally got to see it for herself.

"I hope Sam is having fun," Martha commented as she lay next to Dean in bed.

"He's the one that decided he'd rather go off on some granola munching hike in the desert by himself instead of staying in a luxury hotel for once," Dean replied.

Martha rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin on Dean's bare chest. "Could it be your choice of lodging?"

"This place is freaking awesome," Dean protested. "There's a roller coaster, mini golf and did you taste the pie on the buffet?"

"Which pie? There was more than one."

"Exactly!"

"Do I need to remind you that there's also an abundance of clowns?" Martha asked.

"Is it my fault Sam is acting like a little bitch?"

"Jerk," Martha replied playfully on Sam's behalf.

Dean's phone began to buzz and he retrieved it from the nightstand. He looked at the screen and saw that Sam had sent him a text.

"Sam?"

"Yea." Dean nodded as he read silently. "He's down the road. Wants us to meet him." He paused. "'Wear a suit,'" he read the message out loud.

"Case?" Martha questioned as she reluctantly pulled herself away from Dean in order to get dressed.

"Must be," Dean answered as the two of them crawled out of bed and prepared for whatever awaited them at the mysterious address that Sam had sent.

* * *

"Sam's married," Martha marveled.

Dean exhaled sharply. "Yep." When Sam called them to the wedding chapel, he naturally assumed it was for a case. Not an impromptu wedding ceremony.

"To a stranger," Martha continued.

"Well…"

Martha looked at him seriously. "So the two of you know this Becky?"

"I know all about the two of them." Becky answered eagerly. "I'm Sam biggest fan!"

Martha stared at Dean. "Hunters have fans?"

Dean groaned softly. "It's a long story."

Becky looked at Martha with wide eyes. "You mean you _haven't_ the books?"

"There are books?"

"Oh my God, yes!" Becky replied excitedly. "The Supernatural books _changed_ my life." She looked at Sam lovingly. "I couldn't believe it when I realized that Sam was real. It was like a dream come true. And now I'm Mrs. Becky Rosen-Winchester!"

* * *

Becky sighed softly once the annulment papers were signed. Martha hung back once the boys left the room with Garth, a quirky hunter Bobby had sent along to help them with the crossroads demon that Becky made a deal with.

"It gets better you know," Martha told Becky. "I was like you once."

"How?" Becky looked at her. "You have your very own Winchester."

"Not Dean. Before him," Martha clarified. "There was the man that I was mad for. He was…impossible. He was clever and a bit dangerous and _gorgeous_." She laughed to herself. "But as strongly as I felt for him, he never felt the same."

"What did you do?" Becky asked.

Martha exhaled. "Well I lied to myself for a bit. I convinced myself that I was okay with just standing next to him. That it was just as good. Then I realized I wasn't being fair."

"To him?"

"To myself," Martha replied. "So I moved on. It wasn't easy and I'll admit I slipped into those old feelings once or twice, but one day I woke up and realized that I deserved better. I deserve someone that loves me as much as I love him. You'll get there one day too, Becky."

* * *

"So just do me a favor," Dean looked at Sam. "Next time we go to Vegas, can you try not to pull a Britney?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Are you done?"

"I figured you'd get married first, but I thought it'd last a bit longer," Dean teased.

"Really?" Sam leaned against the car. "The way things are going with Martha, I would have thought you'd be ready to drop down on one knee by now."

Dean scoffed softly. "Me and Martha? Married?"

Sam shrugged. "You're practically there already. I've shared motel rooms with the two of you. You're like an old married couple."

"No we're not, because we still have sex," Dean countered.

Sam winced. "Again, I've shared motel rooms with you."

"It was only the one time and we thought you were asleep."

"And deaf apparently." Sam shook off the thought of Dean and Martha having sex. "The point is this thing with Becky wasn't real, but it doesn't mean I wouldn't marry a girl if she was the right one. And I think Martha is your _one_."

"Even with all this crap we deal with a daily basis?" Dean questioned.

"Because of that," Sam insisted. "The life of a hunter short and dirty, Dean. Martha knows the deal. She's smart and she gets better at hunting every day. I mean she's seen our lives and she hasn't run screaming back to England. I don't know if that makes her crazy or what, but if I were you I wouldn't let her go."

* * *

"I like Becky," Martha told Dean once they had checked into a motel for the night.

Dean laughed. "Are you friggin kidding me? Chick's insane."

"She's a bit…intense, but I think she's a good person deep down."

"Way down," Dean joked.

"We've all done crazy things for love," Martha retorted as she pulled her shoes off and sat on the bed.

"What have you done?" Dean challenged.

Martha let out a laugh. "Which time?"

"Been in love that many times?"

"No, but I thought so at the time." Martha stretched her limbs and lay back against the bed. "I mean it felt real, but hindsight is 20/20."

"What about this?" Dean asked. "Is this thing between us real?"

Martha turned her head and looked at him. "Are you serious?"

Dean shrugged. "It's just a question."

Martha sat up. "Of course it's real, Dean."

"But how do you know?" Dean sat next to her. "How can we be sure that…that _this_ is really it?"

Martha sighed softly and took Dean's face in her hands. "Because you're my destiny, Dean."

"You never struck me as the _destiny_ type," Dean quipped.

"It's because I know our future. Well sort of," Martha told him.

"The Doctor?"

"Do you remember Amy and Rory? And how the Doctor mentioned that timeline where Rory and I got married?" Martha asked.

Dean arched his brow. "Is this going somewhere?"

"Yes," Martha assured him. "Before everything went back to normal with our timelines, I met this someone. She was Amy and Rory's daughter from the future and a time traveler like the Doctor. Well she told me that we would meet one day in hospital in America. River told me that we'd fall in love."

"Wait, did you say her name was River?"

Martha nodded. "Well her real name is Melody, but she goes by Dr. River Song."

Dean frowned. "When you were in the hospital, there was this British chick that said she was checking on you for some doctor friend. She called herself River."

"Big blond hair?"

Dean nodded. "Did we get Parent Trapped?"

"That's how she knew. She knew we'd be together because she had already seen it. She saw you."

"So we're destined," Dean repeated her words.

Martha nodded. "I think so."

Dean let out a slow breath. "Okay. That should make this easier then." He slid off the bed onto the floor.

Martha scooted over to the edge of the bed and looked down at him. "What are you doing?"

Dean knelt in front of her on one knee. "Martha…" He took her hand even though he didn't have a ring for her yet. "I can't promise our life will be perfect. Hell I can't even promise to keep you safe. But I can promise to love you until the day I die, whenever…and how often that may be."

Martha was stunned into silence. "What?" she managed finally. "What exactly are you saying here, Dean?"

"I'm saying…" Dean exhaled. "Martha Jones, will you marry me?"


	22. Chapter 22

"Dean and I just want something small and simple," Martha insisted.

"Small and simple?" Tish scoffed. "You know mum would never go for that." She paused. "That is once she gets over the initial shock of having Dean Winchester as a son in law," she teased.

Martha sighed softly as her sister rambled on the other end of the phone. "I know, Tish. But it just seems like too much of a hassle to make a big deal out of it. All the time and planning that goes into it. Mickey and I had a big wedding and you see how that turned out. We'd rather just do it quick and easy."

"Quick and easy?" Tish paused again. "Oh my God! Martha, are you pregnant?"

"Really Tish?"

"It's not that out of the question," Tish replied. "I mean Dean is pretty fit. If I were you, I would have—"

"No," Martha cut her sister off quickly. "I'm not pregnant!" she shrieked softly attracting concerned glances from the boys and Bobby, who were gathered with her at a table in a Biggerson's Restaurant in Hammonton, New Jersey.

"Fine. You're not preggers, but I still think you should have a real wedding, preferably on this side of the Atlantic."

"If it would make you happy, you could just through us a party next time we're in England. Or come to America."

"I want a real wedding for you," Tish protested. "I want you in a white dress and Dean in a tuxedo. And I want to be the maid of honor so I get the first crack that gorgeous brother of his."

Martha let out an exasperated sigh. "Tish, I can't do this with you right now. We're in the middle of a case."

"Fine, but tell Sam I said 'hi!'"

"Bye, Tish." Martha quickly hung up.

"What does your sister want?" Dean asked.

"Apparently a piece of your brother," Martha retorted, startling Sam in the process.

"Really?" Sam asked.

"Yes," Martha answered. "But I'll spare you the details."

"You're newly single," Dean teased. "I say go for it, Sammy."

"Can we get back to the case or are you girls gonna play matchmaker some more?" Bobby asked gruffly.

"Sorry," Martha apologized.

"Obviously the Jersey Devil isn't what's attacking these people," Bobby continued their earlier conversation. "The question is what _is_ attacking them."

"We should check the woods ourselves," Sam suggested. "See if we can find what's really out there."

Bobby nodded. "Good idea."

"After we eat," Dean insisted as he took a huge bite of his Pepperjack Turducken Slammer.

* * *

Dean felt better after the effects of his sandwich had worn off. But the good feelings were quickly dashed when they realized that the Leviathans had something to do with the grey goo in sandwiches at Biggerson's that were turning people into apathetic zombies or, in the case of Ranger Rick, rage filled monsters that ate anything in their path. On top of that, the Leviathans had snatched Bobby while they were staking out a warehouse that was seemingly connected to the bad sandwiches.

"We don't know how many are in there," Martha said softly as they crept along the side of the building.

"Doesn't matter," Dean insisted. "Bobby's in there so we gotta get him out."

"So if this Dick Roman guy is connected this has to be big right?" Sam questioned. "I mean Edgar and that doctor back in Sioux Falls were one thing, but for the Leviathans to take over a famous billionaire they must be up to something huge. Imagine what they can be capable of with that much pull."

Martha shook off the notion. "I shudder to think about what they're capable of doing, but the bigger question is how the sandwiches at Biggerson's play into it their plans?"

"We'll worry about that later," Dean hushed the two of them. "Getting Bobby out is our top priority."

* * *

It all happened so fast.

The Leviathans snatched Bobby. The boys and Martha burst into the warehouse and sprayed the all the Leviathans they faced with sodium borate. They found Bobby and made their escape, but not without encountering a gun wielding Dick Roman.

"Go! GO!" Bobby shouted while slamming the van door shut as Dick Roman emerged from the warehouse firing shots at them. It was a near miss, but they all got out alive. They were safe in the back of the van.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean sped away for the warehouse. "I glad you got in, Bobby. He almost took your freaking head off."

Martha closed her eyes and attempted to catch her breath. "I don't think I've ever ran so fast in my life and I traveled with the Doctor for a year."

Dean chuckled at Martha's joke. From the brief time they spent with the Doctor, it was obvious that running was his thing.

"Bobby, your hat." Sam picked up the tattered old baseball cap from the van floor and handed it back to Bobby behind him.

Martha opened her eyes and saw the cap still in Sam's hand. "Is that blood?" She stared at the hat then glanced down a Bobby, looking at him for the first time since he had closed the van door. "Bobby," she said his name softly as her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were closed and he was splayed out on the floor. There was a gunshot wound to his temple and blood was pouring from it.

Sam took in the scene next and worry washed over his face. "Bobby?"

"Bobby?" Dean took turned around in the driver's seat. "BOBBY!"

"Dean, you need to drive faster," Martha told him as calmly as she could manage. She was in shock, but she was still a doctor. So she did what came naturally. She pressed her fingers against his neck and leaned her head down closer to him. "His pulse is weak, but he's still breathing," she informed the boys.

"Martha, do something!" Dean demanded frantically, glancing back habitually as he flew around the twists and turns in the road trying to locate the nearest hospital.

"I can't!" Martha shrieked as she moved to lay Bobby's head on her lap.

Dean steeled himself. "You're a doctor, Martha. You patch us up all the time. You can do this."

"Not like this." Martha shook her head as she removed her flannel shirt with shaky hands and placed it against Bobby's wound. "I can barely keep my hands from shaking and even if I could…he needs surgery. Serious surgery." She tried to keep her emotions in check as she looked down at Bobby. "I can't fix this."

* * *

Dean paced back and forth in the corridor outside of Bobby's cubicle in the trauma center. The doctors managed to get Bobby stabilized, but they hadn't removed the bullet yet. An administrator came round asking about organ donation, but Dean scared him off and bruised his hand in the process.

Dean glanced at Sam and Martha. Sam had told them that they needed to prepare themselves for the worst, but Dean wasn't having any of it. Martha was shifting between moments of hopeful optimism and doctor like realism.

"I should be used to this," Martha said softly with her head in her hands. Sam had forced her to go wash Bobby's blood away, but there were still faint pink smudges on her palms. "I've spent the majority of my career working in A&E," she continued. "I mean it's not as common back home, but I saw things like this all the time in Chicago."

Sam put a brotherly arm around Martha's shoulders. "It's different when it's someone you know."

"It's not the first time someone I love…" Martha's voice broke as she lifted her head. "I mean there were moments back when the Master took over. But it changed, it was erased," she rambled on incoherently. "Jack always came back. And Sarah Jane, but she was sick. We knew. We had time to prepare. And the Brigadier went peacefully in his sleep." She shook her head as she rattled off names Dean had never heard before. "But Owen and Tosh…Ianto…" She stared at her hands and it reminded Dean of the night back in Chicago when they first met and took out a nest of vampires.

It was weird for Dean to see Martha this way. She was always so confident and unflappable. He had never seen this side of her before, this moment of weakness. He wanted to tell her that everything would be alright, but he was struggling to keep himself together.

Dean exhaled sharply and walked over to Bobby's bed again. "Come on, Bobby. Wake up," he begged quietly. "You're better than this. Don't let one bullet from that Dick take you down." He glanced back at Sam and Martha who watched him. "You can't leave us." He looked at Bobby again. "Not now. Martha will kill you if you miss our wedding."

"Damn right I will," Martha added in a strained voice from over Dean's shoulder. She forced a smile when Dean looked at her and slid her hand into his. "You're like my second father, Bobby. You have to give me away. And you have to help me keep these two in line."

Sam stood beside the two of them and took Bobby's hand into his own. "Bobby, I…" He glanced down as Bobby's grip tightened around his fingers. "He moved." He looked at Dean and Martha then back at Bobby. "Look! His eyes are opening!"

"Bobby?" Dean let out a sigh of relief as Bobby clawed at the oxygen masked that covered his nose and mouth.

Bobby panted heavily as he struggled to speak.

"No," Martha protested seamlessly flying back into doctor mode. "Don't strain yourself."

"Write, don't speak," Dean insisted as he grabbed Bobby's medical chart looking for a pen. "Here." He shoved a pen into Bobby's hand.

Bobby took the pen from Dean and slowly began to scribble the numbers 45489 onto Sam's palm. He glanced up at the boys and Martha and managed a weak smile. "Idjits," he whispered before losing consciousness again.

"Bobby?" Dean called out to him as the heart monitor flat lined.


	23. Chapter 23

The first week was the hardest. The boys and Martha were too consumed by grief to do anything besides go through the motions. After that, Dean became obsessed.

Over the next couple of weeks, the walls of Rufus' cabin were covered in photos and news clippings. He spent hours going of any bits of information he could glean about Dick Roman. Martha and Sam were worried about him, but he was like a man possessed. He needed to get to the bottom of the numbers Bobby wrote on Sam's hand.

"Should we call someone?" Sam asked. "About Bobby, I mean." He looked at Dean, who was yet against engrossed by his obsession with Dick Roman and the numbers. "Maybe we should be telling people. People he knew."

Dean let out a frustrated breath. "How long ago did we give Frank those numbers?" Frank Devereaux was a friend of Bobby's that helped the boys and Martha go underground when two Leviathans began masquerading as Sam and Dean. Frank was an expert when it came to counterfeit documents and avoiding government scrutiny. He was also a conspiracy theorist.

"It's been about three weeks, but you know how he is, Dean." Martha shrugged her shoulders. "The fastest route isn't necessarily the safest."

"Or maybe a Leviathan ate his face off and he _can't_ call us back," Dean reasoned.

"It's a possibility," Sam retorted. He and Martha exchanged glances. She knew he was just as frustrated as he was about the way Dean was dealing with Bobby's death, or rather the fact that he wasn't dealing with it.

"We should go check on him," Dean replied as he continued to pore over his research.

"So do you want to call Bobby's people or not?" Sam demanded.

Dean looked up finally. "Why is that _our_ job?"

"Who else is going to do it?" Sam questioned.

Dean shrugged. "I'm not calling anybody." He went back to his notes. "You can call, if that's what you wanna do."

Sam scoffed. "Do you think I _want_ to call?"

"No one _wants_ to call," Martha insisted. "Doesn't mean we shouldn't." She sighed softly and got up to make herself some tea. As she walked past the table, she heard a mobile ringing. She paused. "Is that?"

"It's Bobby's," Sam answered, pulling the phone from the duffel bag it was shoved in. He quickly answered. "Hello?"

Martha looked at Dean, who abandoned his notes for the moment.

"Uh, no. He's...uh…" Sam glanced at Martha and Dean. Whoever was on the phone clearly was asking for Bobby. "It's not, but I'm a friend of his. He's…not here, but look, if you need s—" Sam stared at the phone. The person on the other end had obviously hung up when they realized he wasn't Bobby.

"Who was it?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "A kid."

"A kid?" Martha repeated.

Dean frowned. "For _Bobby_?"

Martha shook her head. "Why would a kid be calling Bobby?"

"I think she may be a hunter's kid," Sam replied. "She sounded pretty scared."

"Scared?" Martha looked at Sam seriously. "Then we have to help her."

Sam looked at the phone. "I have caller ID. We can track her, may be go check on her."

"What about Frank?" Dean countered.

"I think we should check on this girl first," Sam insisted.

Martha nodded. "Sam's right. I mean, if she's calling Bobby, she might be in danger."

Dean exhaled sharply. "Frank's been working on the numbers that Bobby's spent his last breath on," he reminded them. "And the two of you want to back burner that?"

Martha scoffed. "Nobody's back burning anything, Dean," she retorted angrily. "Sam and I are just as angry about what happened to Bobby as you are. And given the chance, I'd end Dick Roman myself, but we don't even know how to kill those things yet. Hell, we don't even know what those bloody numbers mean. But what we do know is that there's a girl out there that was scared enough to call Bobby for help. He's not here to help her, but I am. So you can go chase down Frank and play code breakers if you like, but I'm going to honor Bobby's memory the only way I know how." She looked at Sam. "Let's go."

* * *

Frank had good news when Dean got to him. He was able to figure out that the meaning behind the numbers Bobby had written. It turned out that they were the coordinates to a parcel of land in Wisconsin that had been recently purchased by Richard Roman Enterprises.

Dean wondered what the land meant for Dick's plans, but had to push those thoughts aside when he got a call from a young girl named Krissy Chambers, who told him that Sam and Martha instructed her to call him if she didn't hear from them.

Sam and Martha were caught by a pair of Vetala while searching from Krissy's dad, Lee. The three of them had been under the impression that Vetala were loners, but Dean knew firsthand that they hunted in pairs because he took down some while Sam was away at Stanford. With Krissy's help, Dean managed to save her dad, Sam and Martha.

"How's your neck?" Dean asked Martha. She sat in the hallway outside of Lee Chamber's hospital room.

Martha instinctually touched the bandage over her wound. One of the Vetala had bitten her while she and Sam were being held captive. "I've had worse."

Dean sat next to her. "You don't have to act tough for my benefit. I already know you're a badass."

Martha nodded. "How's Lee?"

"He'll be fine. _They'll_ be fine." Dean paused. "Martha, we need to talk." He exhaled sharply. "I've been thinking about the wedding and—"

Martha scoffed. "Dean Winchester, if you give me some shit 'I have to leave you to protect you' speech and use this as an excuse to call off our engagement I swear to everything that I hold sacred that I will kick your goddamned arse," she warned through gritted teeth.

"Actually…" Dean cleared his throat. "I was…uh…thinking we should move it up," he responded cautiously.

"Oh." Martha shrunk back against her seat. "Go on."

"I've just been thinking." Dean paused thoughtfully. "Something Frank said to me. Then this whole thing with Lee and Krissy." He shook his head. "This isn't the life I want for you."

Martha sighed. "Dean…"

Dean held his hand up. "Just let me get this out," he requested and Martha quietly obliged. "I told Lee to quit," he informed her. "I mean Krissy is fourteen with a kill under her belt already." He shook his head. "She should be out their living like a normal kid. I mean I grew up in this life and I wouldn't wish it on _anyone_."

"I don't understand what you're saying, Dean."

"I don't want to be my old man, Martha," Dean answered. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life trying to avenge you because some son of a bitch took you away from me. And I don't want our kids to live like Krissy or how Sam and I did." He exhaled. "I just need some time, okay? I just need a little more time to take down that Dick. Then…" He took Martha's hands into his. "Then I'll quit," he promised her. "Sam can go back to Stanford or whatever. And you and me can settle down and have a couple of kids. I'll fix cars or something and you…you can save the world the doctor way."

Martha squeezed his hands gently. "You'd really give up hunting for me?" she asked softly.

"No." Dean shook his head. "I'll give it up for _us_."


End file.
